Perfect Opposites: A West Wing Collection
by JohnDoggettisaBadass
Summary: This will be a collection of chapters stemming from the 'what could have been' from Sam Seaborn and Ainsley Hayes shippers. AU timeline, I have taken some liberties with the story, but none too big. Bartlet Administration, duh. This story will also contain cute Jed/Abbey moments, hints at Josh/Donna moments and challenges to face our cast of heroes. In progress!
1. The Beginning

**Washington D.C.**

 **The West Wing**

 **9:04 pm**

"Sam…Sam!"

Sam looked up from his desk, and up into the beautiful eyes of one of many White House counsel staff, but the only one who made him feel like a true equal. Ainsley Hayes. She was staring at him like she usually did, with utter discontent and slight annoyance.

"Did you hear anything of what I just said?" she asked, her tone now louder than it had been when he had drifted off into the wonderful world of daydreams.

He let his head fall flat onto his desk and covered the back of his neck with his hands.

"Refresh my memory."

Even though he wasn't looking at her now, which of course, would be stupid to do, Sam knew she was giving him the death stare. However, instead of moving on to the topic that had been at hand before his little trip to the back of his mind, she said something that surprised him.

"Sam are you okay?"

He looked up from his desk quicker than he had gone down on it. Her eyes still held annoyance, but now there was also a slight concern. For this, he was grateful, he came to consider Ainsley Hayes a friend. They had been working together now for nearly four months, and over those four months, he had come to like the time he spent with her during the day. He even found himself creating excuses to his secretaries to make trips down to her office, just to talk to her. Well, that, and spend countless minutes debating her on the various topics where they differed politically. He never got tired of that.

"I'm fine, just a bit tired, what were you saying?" he asked, trying to move past his obvious need to get some sleep, or hell, just a five-minute break.

She eyed him suspiciously. "Sam. When was the last time you got more than five hours of sleep?"

He replied instantaneously, letting his wit do the talking. "It was 1945, I had just gotten home from the Big War."

"Sam." She was serious now. "You are in serious need of an Ambien and a warm bed."

"I know where to find one of those, but it's currently lying in wait nine miles away," he said jokingly, yet very straightforward. "I may need your help getting the Ambien. Did you know there's a bill floating through the sub-committee on Health and Human services that would outlaw the prescription of any and all sleeping pills above 5 milligrams? I mean, that's insanity! The only creature that exists within the confines of this city that could possibly feel the effects of any pill less than 5 milligrams is a street rat!"

He hadn't noticed his tone of voice had changed, and he was nearly shouting at her for no apparent reason. She hadn't budged, nor had the look in her eyes changed as she leaned comfortably back in her chair.

"Luckily there's more than a few of those in Congress," Ainsley replied wittily.

He leaned back in his chair. "Yeah, and most of them are Republicans." And here he is hoping she would take the bait.

She did, she was so predictable. "Do you want to get into this now?"

"I always want to get into this." He hadn't realized he had said it until the words had finished escaping his mouth.

She smirked, which then turned into a full-fledged smile. "Sam Seaborn. The secrets are coming out."

He sighed and put his chin in his palm as he tried to come up with a response that would rescue him from this somewhat awkward conversation. "I need sleep." Was all that came out. He got up out of his chair and grabbed his coat off the back, slipping it on quickly. He turned back to Ainsley, she was now standing in the doorway, blocking his exit. He walked up to her and stared.

"You're stopping me from leaving," he said bluntly.

"Yes," she replied staring back up at him. "Yes I am."

"May I ask why?" he asked.

She made a face like she was pretending to ponder his request, but then winked and said a simple "No."

"You were the one who said I should get some sleep," he pointed out.

"That was before I knew the lack of a proper night's rest acted as a truth serum for you," she replied firmly keeping her small frame in the doorway to his office.

"And now?" he asked plainly while he got lost in her deep blue eyes.

"Now I kind of feel the sudden urge to kiss you," she said staring back up at him. He glanced quickly over her shoulder into the empty bullpen. All of the normal 9-5 staff had gone home, only essential staff ever stayed this late. He looked back to her, then her lips, then back to her eyes again.

He pulled his glasses off of his face and put them into his shirt pocket. "Ainsley?"

She suddenly looked very flushed, her cheeks had gone a bright shade of red. She took a deep breath and stepped out of his way. He watched her eyes the entire time.

"I apologize," she said quite calmly, "That was entirely unprofessional of me and I apologize." She moved past him and he spun around, watching her actions intently. She picked up her coat from the coat hanger in the back corner of his room, threw it on, turned around and shoved her way past him out of his office. He waited a few seconds, still unsure of what had just occurred, and then walked out of his office to the bullpen, looking down the hallway where she had walked. A moment later, he heard a shout.

"Goodnight Sam!"

Even though he didn't know where it came from, he knew who it had come from, and shouted back.

"Goodnight!"

Sam stood in the bullpen, put his hands on his hips and began to wonder if Ainsley Hayes had a crush on him. He felt his mouth suddenly curl into a smile. Maybe…no. Never mind that thought. He walked back into his office and shut the door. There was still work to be done.


	2. Flight

**Somewhere over the Midwest**

 **Air Force One**

 **Twelve Past Midnight**

Sam secretly hated planes. He had almost always hated planes. It wasn't flying no; he was fine with flying. He hated the actual physical transport that flew him places. Even on Air Force One, the most protected and state-of-the-art passenger jet in the country, Sam felt unsafe. He much preferred being down on solid ground, where he knew he was in total control of his body. Up here, at 36,000 feet, he was in God's hands. And even though the President had embraced that idea whole-heartedly, Sam had his doubts.

"CJ, what the hell is he going to say?" Josh asked suddenly throwing Sam out of his panicked state and back to work. CJ, Josh, Toby and himself were all sitting in one of the four conference rooms on Air Force One trying to work through a speech surrounding the incident in Missouri, their current destination.

CJ threw her hands up in the air in defeat and Toby leaned forward across the table. "We're reluctant to see that Governor Pascal has denied the order of the President by signing this legislation into law in the great state of Missouri-,"

"Therefore prohibiting the transgender citizens of this state the same rights that should be guaranteed to them under the 14th Amendment and the Civil Rights Act of 1964," Sam said continuing Toby's start. "In a direct violation of federal law and the Supremacy Clause of our Constitution, I am asking the Justice Department to pursue a case of legal action against the Pascal administration and…." Sam trailed off.

"And also will be asking that in this time of division," Josh continued as he paced around the room. "The people of Missouri and the people of this nation remain unified in our love for the values that hold this country together, instead of focusing on what drives us apart."

Silence overtook the room for a few seconds. Sam looked over at Toby. "It's a start."

"It's not good, yet," Toby replied plainly.

"God, Toby," Josh said running his hands through his hair. "Even Shakespeare had to start somewhere!"

"So we'll get it patched up," CJ answered, then looking over at Sam. "We should get Ainsley to look over the first draft, just to make sure we've got all of the legal shamoo right." Sam nodded and got up from his seat, making his way out of the conference room. As he left he heard Josh say a confused, 'Shamoo?' Sam smirked and shut the door on his way out. Now to find the very mysterious and very sneaky White House counsel, wherever she may be hiding.

He found her sitting criss cross in a backroom where all the files that the President carried on Air Force One were stored. He walked in the room and shut the door behind him. She didn't even look up from the box of files she was currently sifting through.

"Ainsley we need you to look over the President's press release about the incident in Missouri," he said quickly and firmly.

"Do you have a finished first draft for me?" she asked, throwing a file behind her carelessly.

"We will, in probably about an hour," he answered standing only a few feet away from her.

"Well then," she said finally looking up at him. "Why are you telling me now?"

"This is a pressing matter Ainsley," he replied, now a little bit peeved off by her demeanor. "The President needs this-,"

"No he doesn't," she said firmly staring back at him. "And no this really isn't a pressing matter, in fact, I disagree with this entire trip. I was completely fine sitting at home in D.C. with a warm cup of cocoa and watching the evening news. But no, I get a call an hour after I've left work telling me to pack my bags and meet the motorcade at Andrews ASAP. Did you know I've never even flown before Sam?"

He was shocked by her sudden blow up. He could feel the frustration rising off of her and smoking up the room as he stared back down at her.

"No," he answered quietly, "I didn't know that, but if it's any consolation, I dislike this trip just as much as you do. The difference is, I've got a job to do, no matter if I agree with its purpose or content, I have a duty to the President and to the White House to get it done."

She replied immediately and with force. "I have a job too Sam. And for the record, you can tell me to do something, and I'll do it to the best of my ability, but that doesn't mean I agree with it, even if you do."

He paused, taking a deep breath. "Okay."

"Okay," she said calmly. He turned to leave the room. "Sam," he turned back around to face her. She stood up and crossed her arms while staring back at him with a gaze that could only be described to him as sexy, because that's what he saw in her eyes. Sex. Good God. She took two steps closer to him, he froze, unsure of what to do or what she was thinking. If he reached out with his arm he could touch her, then she took another step closer. Her comment a few days ago, about her wanting to kiss him in his office caught him off guard, but now, now it was like being trapped in a cage surrounded by hungry sharks.

"Ainsley…" he murmured, her name barely escaping his lips as she got closer to him. One more step and she would be practically pushing herself up against his chest. He began to imagine it, wrapping his arms around her, taking her into him, her standing on her tiptoes as their lips met hungrily. He couldn't deny the thought of their intimacy aroused him. But before he could get too far, she took that one step closer, causing him to stop every single thought circulating through his mind. She leaned up into him, her chest only a meager inch from coming into full contact with his and whispered into his ear. Her words would stay with him for longer than any speech he could ever write.

"I like it when _**you**_ tell me what to do."

Then, just as quickly as she had said those ten words, she slipped past him and out of the room, leaving him standing there in awe of her words, but mostly, in awe of her.


	3. Two White House Deputies

**Washington D.C.**

 **The West Wing**

 **Mid-day**

There was a knock on his office door, distracting him temporarily from his work. He looked up.

"Come in," he said loudly. The door opened and Josh walked in, looking as stressed as he usually was.

"Sam, did you call the Speaker's office?" Josh asked as he strode in the room and sat down in the chair across from Sam.

"Yes I did, why do you ask?" Sam asked in return.

Josh buried his face in his palms, as he probably did at least twenty times a day, and then looked back up at him. "Was it about the President's new thoughts on the Bartlet-Care reform package?"

"Yes, he suggested we should contact leadership on the Hill to float the idea," Sam answered looking back at his friend. Josh sunk in his chair.

"He said he was considering contacting the leadership, not that we should do it for him!"

"I know that," Sam answered calmly. "But then Leo came to me this morning to tell me to call the Speaker's office directly and try to set up a meeting to discuss it."

Josh let out a sigh of relief. "So you didn't actually say anything to the Speaker about the plan?"

"Not even a little bit."

Josh leaned back in his seat and put his arms behind his head. "Oh thank God."

"But I did set up a meeting," Sam said.

"When?"

Sam glanced down at his watch. "About two hours."

"Cancel it."

"But Leo-,"

"Leo hasn't even gone over the contents of the reform package yet," Josh said cutting Sam off.

Sam caught on to what Josh was saying. "We don't have a reform package do we…"

"Not even a little bit," Josh answered wittily mocking him.

"And you want me to start working on one," Sam said leaning back in his chair.

"Preferably within the next two hours, or cancel the meeting."

Sam stared plainly back at Josh. "I'll cancel the meeting."

Josh got up from the chair and was reaching for the door handle when Sam stood up and stopped him.

"Hey, Josh."

"Yeah?" he asked, turning to face Sam.

"You remember about two weeks ago, when we took Air Force One to Missouri?"

Josh shot him a confused look. "Yeah?"

Sam didn't know how exactly to say it, but Josh was somebody he considered to be his friend. So he realized it didn't matter, and Sam knew he needed advice.

"You've had your fair share of…relationships, haven't you?"

"Sam are you coming onto me?" Josh joked, smile half-cocked.

"No, quite the opposite actually," Sam replied plainly. "It's Ainsley."

Josh shot him another confused look and raised an eyebrow. "Ainsley's coming onto me?"

"No, Dear God, no. She hates you," he answered, also jokingly. Josh got the joke and chuckled.

"Good, I don't need any more admirers."

"She's coming onto me." It felt good to say it out loud, to finally speak into words what his mind had been thinking for the past week.

Josh walked back to the chair he had just gotten out of and sat back down into it, leaning forward and squinting his eyes like he was ready to inspect the crown jewels. Sam sat back down behind his desk and took his glasses off, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles.

"Two weeks ago on Air Force One…," Josh trailed off.

"I asked her to look over the President's statement, she snapped at me, we argued, then she got really close to me and told me and I quote 'I like it when you tell me what to do'."

Sam waited for his friend's response as he eyed him like a voter who had just read in the tabloids that their congressman was having an extra-marital affair. He wasn't angry, just confused to the point of disappointment in the lack of a response. Five more seconds passed before Josh spoke.

"She's coming onto you," was all he said.

"Well, yes. I think she is." Sam waited. Josh didn't say anything, prompting Sam to speak more than he wanted too. "I don't know. Maybe. That's why I'm telling you. What should I do?"

"You could ask her out," Josh suggested.

"She works for me."

"Not technically."

"So you're saying I should disregard all White House policy about coworkers engaging in social relationships while holding positions of relative power and therefore being held in a position where we could both be fired."

Josh nodded. "She's the lawyer, don't you think she would know better than to make advances on you if it compromised your work?"

"I don't know…," Sam answered. "What would you do?"

"I can't say, it's not happening to me," Josh said quickly.

"What if Donna started coming onto you?" Josh looked taken aback by his hypothetical, but tried to deflect it with a joke.

"Donna's always coming onto me."

"Josh, I'm serious. I need your advice."

Josh sighed. "She's hot."

"Donna?"

"No, well yes, but no. Ainsley."

Sam nodded and imagined the beautiful blonde standing in his office. "Yeah, yeah she is."

"Do you like her?" Josh asked leaning across Sam's desk.

"How could somebody not like her?" Sam said looking up at the ceiling.

Josh sighed and got up out of the chair. Sam looked back at him as he opened the door to his office and turned to face him one last time.

"The President wants to see a draft of the health care reform package on his desk by the end of day Sam. And you should talk to Ainsley." And with that Josh left his office. Sam ran after him and shouted down the hall as his friend and White House deputy chief of staff walked away.

"That's all you've got?!" Sam shouted over the sound of the full bullpen.

Josh threw a hand up in the air and waved him away. "That's all I've got!"

Sam sighed, and retreated back into his office. He would figure out Ainsley later. Right now, he had to save the American health care industry.


	4. The Damn Kenyans

**Thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far, there's still so much to come :)**

 **Washington D.C.**

 **Sam Seaborn's Apartment**

 **2:03 am**

He had gotten home about five minutes ago and instantly stripped off his jacket, tie and dress shoes. He grabbed a glass of water, ran his hands through his hair and walked into his bedroom, quickly collapsing onto his bed. It had been yet another long day. Though this was usual, getting home in between midnight and the early hours of the morning. Glancing at the clock, he sighed and covered his face with a pillow. He had to be up in five hours. No point in changing if he was just going to shower in the morning.

His cellphone rang, interrupting his chance to fall asleep. He groaned and looked at the caller ID. 'White House' it displayed. Fuck. He flipped open the phone and answered it.

"Sam Seaborn," he said groggily.

"Sam, it's Ainsley." He recognized her voice, the sweet southern sound of her coming over the phone and penetrating his tired ears. At least it wasn't Toby. Or Josh.

"You're about to tell me that I need to come back to the office, aren't you?" he asked already knowing the answer.

"You know me so well." He sensed the sarcasm in her tone. He liked her dry sense of humor, maybe that's what had attracted him to her in the first place.

"This better be good Ainsley, I had a wonderful date with a pillow and a bedsheet that I was really looking forward too."

"Well now you have a date with me," she said and he must have made an audible gasp because of her next couple of words. "Relax, Sam. I'm joking, but Leo isn't, and you need to get back here ASAP."

He stood up off his bed and looked around for where he had left his shoes and car keys as he kept her on the phone. "What's going on?"

"H.R. 376 is what's going on, and we're just getting word from the American embassy in Kenya that local rebels have taken the U.N. support team that was escorting the aid package hostage."

Yay. God bless the underfunded military branch of the United Nations. "So why am I coming in?"

"Congressmen Dale and Truscott along with a few members of the Democratic leadership are coming in to meet with us on how we can reframe the language on the bill, without breaking international law. Leo wants you to lead the meeting on our side," she answered.

"And the Kenyan rebels?" Sam asked after slipping on his shoes, now searching for his car keys. He knew he could take a cab, but at this rate it would take him nearly half an hour to get to work, and he didn't need a half-blind old man driving ten miles under the speed limit.

"What do you think they've taken the hostages for?" She said sounding as chipper as ever.

"So Kenyan rebels are interested in American politics?" Sam asked again, searching in between his couch cushions.

"Everyone is interested in American politics Sam; you should be happy we at least have a dialogue with these people now."

Yeah, happy. At 2 am, Sam Seaborn was anything but happy. In fact, he was emotionless, completely void of all feelings, which was good. He would be able to focus on keeping the Kenyans happy, instead of keeping her happy.

"Yeah sure," he said quickly, "all they had to do was kidnap and hold an international group of peacekeeping, democracy-loving soldiers' hostage as they tried to transport clean water and solid food to dying refugees hiding from one of the bloodiest civil wars in the history of the continent."

"Sounds like the perfect way to try and negotiate with them," Ainsley answered.

"It's not negotiating Ainsley," he said initiating the argument. "We're appeasing them by even holding this meeting, it only shows every AK-47 toting terrorist across the globe that the most powerful nation on Earth can in fact be bullied towards compromise."

"Or maybe," Ainsley said very 'matter-of-factly', "it shows the rest of the Western world and our allies around the globe that bombing the hell out of these groups isn't always the correct response."

"Oh that's rich coming from the Republican."

"You know Sam, we aren't all war-hawks," she replied firmly. "I am actually against armed foreign interventions, especially when we begin to fight wars that don't directly affect us."

"All wars affect us in one way or another," he answered philosophically as he took one look at his apartment, wondering where the hell his keys could be.

"Sam, why haven't you left yet?" Ainsley asked suddenly.

"I must have misplaced my keys…," he said moving on from the argument, he had won, though he knew she didn't see it that way, or care.

"Do you need me to come pick you up?" she asked surprising him. The thought of her coming to his apartment sent an interesting thought through his head, one that he immediately shook from his brain and tried to move on from.

"No, no, I'll take a cab," he deflected quickly, knowing she may well do it. "When is the leadership going to be there?"

There was a pause on the other end of the line. After a moment she spoke. "Half an hour."

"Ainsley," he said as he collected his remaining things and opened the door to his apartment.

"Yes Samuel?" she asked teasingly.

"Don't call me Samuel."

"Don't call me Ainsley."

His face contorted into a confused frown as he locked his apartment door and headed down hallway to the elevator. "That's your name."

"I know. But I think I need a nickname."

"You don't need a nickname." The elevator doors opened and he stepped inside, hit the 'L' for lobby and waited for her next words.

"I like 'Ains'," she answered sweetly.

"I'm not going to start calling you Ains," he said into the phone.

"What about babe?"

He froze in the elevator as every bone in his body seized up. Here she was again, coming onto him. He remembered what Josh had told him, but that advice wouldn't do him any good now, nor was it the place to discuss it. The elevator doors dinged open and he was thrust back into reality as he took a confident step into the lobby.

"Ainsley," he said cautiously, half trying to warn her to not say anything more.

"Yes Samuel?" Well, he never said she was a great listener.

"Go into my office, there's an extra shirt in the bottom drawer, get it and meet me outside the lobby restrooms in fifteen minutes," he ordered.

"Okay, see you soon…babe." Before he could retort to her borderline sensual comment, the line clicked off. He sighed and put the cellphone in his coat pocket before steeping out into the cold night and scanning the street for a cab. Hopefully she wouldn't do anything else that would make this night any harder than it already was, for the sake of his own mental health. One could only take so much Ainsley Hayes.


	5. Flirting with Crime Reform

**Washington D.C.**

 **The West Wing**

 **Later That Week**

Sam Seaborn sat at an empty table in the corner of the large ballroom where the party for the passage of the President's crime reform bill was beginning to wrap up. The musical guest of the evening, Bare Naked Ladies, had left nearly an hour ago, which left a bunch of drunk White House staffers without any further incentive to stay. And so most staffers had left, leaving only a handful of people still in the ballroom, none of whom Sam felt like talking to right now.

The alcohol had worn off and he know was left alone with his thoughts. In the absence of any work to do, he thought about the one thing he had tried his best to ignore for the past three days, and that was of course, junior White House counsel, Ainsley Hayes.

The night he had come back to the West Wing to change the language on H.R. 376 per request of the Kenyan rebels, Ainsley had not teased him any further, for which he was thankful. He had almost been scared to come back to work after she had called him babe on the phone, but she must have moved on because she made no mention of it the rest of the night, which of course, had gone well into the late morning, and he hadn't gotten home until 9 am. He slept through that day, asking Josh to cover for him and Ginger to cancel his meetings. He was thankful that Leo hadn't called him in to follow-up on the situation in Kenya. He didn't know if he could face Ainsley without asking her what he so badly wanted to ask her. Josh was right, he needed to talk to her. But now, he was just waiting for the right time.

He glanced down at his watch. 11:32 pm. He looked up and around at the almost empty ballroom. Yeah, he thought to himself, it was probably time to go, and who knew, maybe he would actually get more than five hours of sleep tonight. He stood up from the table and began to slowly make his way towards the main entrance.

"Hey Sam!"

He turned around and saw CJ walking towards him, well, not really walking, more like staggering. She held a glass of champagne in her hand.

"Hey CJ," he said as she approached him.

She took a sip of her champagne, burped and spoke. Wow she was wasted. He wasn't sure he had ever seen CJ this drunk before.

"Hey, great party huh?!" She said loudly, as if the music was still playing and she was trying to speak over it. "I forgot to tell you congratulations, I know…oh boy…hold my drink." She shoved her glass into his hand and turned to the nearby trash can, throwing her head into it and vomiting. Sam sighed, walked up behind her, poured the remaining liquid out of her glass, and put a firm hand on her back.

A few seconds later, she turned around and he pulled a napkin off a nearby table for her to wipe her mouth with. She did and whispered a small 'thank you'. He grabbed her arm lightly and motioned for them to make their way out of the ballroom. She followed him undoubtedly.

When they reached the main hall, he turned to CJ and looked her in the eyes.

"Do you have a ride home CJ?" he asked.

"I guess not…," she said as if suddenly realizing her situation.

"I'm going to call you a cab." Sam took his cell out of his coat pocket and was about to dial the D.C. local number for a cab when she said something that made him pause.

"Did you see Ainsley tonight?" she asked groggily.

Sam looked at his friend. "No, she was here tonight?"

"Sam, she works here," CJ replied looking at him as if he was the one who was stupefied.

"No, yeah, I know that," he said quickly, "I just didn't know she was coming to the party."

"Well she looked amazing," CJ laughed, followed by another burp. "I think I even saw Toby's jaw fall completely open."

Even though the thought of his already hot coworker in a ball gown had his mind spinning, he tried to joke his way through the conversation and remain neutral.

"That's not possible, Toby doesn't like people, let alone find them attractive."

CJ pursed her lips together in amusement. "Well Ainsley left quite the impression…on everyone…I'm pretty sure the lead singer of BNL wanted to take her home."

As much as the thought of any man with Ainsley sickened him, deep down, he was jealous. And he knew it. Maybe that's what made him ask CJ where she was.

"I think I saw her heading back down to her office...but that was an hour ago…or ten minutes…how long have we been standing here?"

Sam sighed and heard another familiar voice from just behind him.

"I never thought I would see you two going home together," Toby said very dryly as he walked up to them.

Sam smirked back at him. "CJ is drunker than a sailor on the third day of Fleet Week, can you take her home?"

"Sure," Toby answered as he slung his coat over her shoulders. "You're staying awhile?"

"I just want to swing by my office and finish up a few things," Sam lied. Toby nodded and Sam took the opportunity to start walking away, but before he had taken four steps, Toby's insistent voice interrupted his movements.

"Did you see Ainsley tonight?" he asked as Sam turned around to face him again.

Sam shook his head. "No."

Toby raised his eyebrows and whispered as if to hide his comment from CJ, even though Sam was sure she could hear him. Not that it mattered, she wouldn't remember any of this in the morning.

"Gorgeous," he said as he winked and pulled CJ along with him out of the main lobby. Sam watched them leave and then turned to continue his quest, the quest to locate the only gorgeous Republican in the building.

A minute later he walked down the stairs that led to her office and from the staircase saw that her office door was closed but there was a small light illuminating the blinds. He walked up to the door, raised his fist, but paused before knocking. Did he want to do this right now? He didn't even have time to answer his own question, because as soon as he had raised his fist to knock, the door had swung open, and standing in front of him was everything he feared.

She had been looking down at a file and bumped into him, at which point she staggered and he reached around her body, catching her as she fell into his arms. Toby had been right, she was gorgeous. Whatever ball gown she had been wearing had disappeared and she had changed into her tight jeans and grey F.B.I. sweatshirt. Her hair was still done up though and her makeup had not yet been completely removed. Her dark eyeshadow trapped his eyes in a trance as he stared down at her, keeping his arms around her small torso. Her beautiful blue eyes were staring back into his.

"Hi," she whispered up at him.

"Hi," he repeated, unable to think of anything else to say under her gaze.

"Sam," she whispered all the while holding onto his back with her hands.

"Yeah?" he asked softly, as he felt her hands begin to move up his back. It was mesmerizing, the feeling of a woman's hands on his body, it had been quite some time for him.

"I can stand on my own now," she said simply. He almost dropped her, but didn't, instead trying his very best to let go of her without making the situation any more awkward than it already was. As he let go of her and she brushed herself off, he felt his cheeks go red and a sudden feeling of embarrassment consume him.

She looked back up at him. "Thank you. Were you at the party tonight?"

"Yes," he replied, trying not to sound like a robot. "Yeah, I was."

"I didn't see you," she said doubtfully.

"And I didn't see you," he said plainly.

She smirked back at him. "I was only there for an hour, didn't want to start any fights."

He remembered their conversation (argument) from a few weeks ago. She had been against the crime reform bill from the start, insisting it didn't do enough in some areas and did too much in others. She had even joked at one point she was going to make a personal visit to her congressperson and urge them not to vote for the bill. Of course, she hadn't, it was her job to see it passed, so she had done her job, reluctantly as usual, but she had done it, and for that, Sam was grateful.

"Toby assured me you had quite the opposite effect," he said wittily back at her. She was still so close, her soft, pink lips only a few inches from his own. How easy it would be to lean down and-

"Toby's always had a soft spot for me," she joked casually.

Sam scoffed. "Toby and soft spots? Please, the man could not be more solid."

"Mhm," she mumbled. Then, as if suddenly realizing something. "Wait, why are you down here?"

"I, uh…well I-," He didn't have an answer, well he did, but it wasn't an answer he was ready to give, not now, not after the awkwardness of catching her in his arms.

"Hoping to catch me in my gown before I left?" she asked, flirtatiously interrupting him and saving him from even more embarrassment at his own expense. He was never very good at flirting, though his sense of humor had saved him on multiple occasions. If only he could think of something funny to say now.

Instead, he shrugged his shoulders and gave her the 'whatever-you-say' look. He thought he was free, that his lack of a response would send her on her way, leaving him and his red cheeks to ponder their actions on his own. He was wrong. Oh boy was he wrong.

She took a step towards him, leaving the gap between them only an inch wide now. Slowly, she leaned into him, and he felt her jeaned legs rub against his, touching just enough that his heart rate quickened and his breathing become a bit heavier.

"It's a shame we missed each other at the party," she whispered up into him as he stared back down into her eyes. Her mysterious, sexy eyes. "I was really hoping for a dance."

He was speechless. She was doing it again, coming onto him. Though this time, he wasn't sure if he could control himself, not this time. Hopefully she knew what she was doing.

He said the first thing that came to mind, and luckily, it wasn't the most terrible response he could have come up with.

"What makes you think I'm a good dancer?" he asked trying to retain any ounce of suaveness he may possess.

"What makes you think I meant I wanted to dance with you," she answered quickly destroying his already meager hopes. Then, upon seeing his reaction, which he assumed was a slight frown, she winked and leaned up on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. He remained frozen in place, his feet glued to the ground and his hands sewn into his sides as her lips brushed against his skin. It burned, hurt almost, but it was a good kind of hurt, the kind of pain he wanted, yearned for. But it was over before he could completely fall into that dark pit of lust. She leaned back down and he opened his eyes to see her gazing up at him again.

"I'm kidding Sam," she said sweetly, "I would have loved to dance with you." He smiled at her but didn't know what else to say, what else to do. The shock from the feeling of her soft, almost cloud-like lips on his skin had him numb.

She moved past him and he heard her walk up the staircase, leaving him standing in front of her office.

"Sam," she said causing him to turn around and look up to where she stood on the staircase, looking as beautiful as ever. She smiled at him. "Goodnight."

He smiled back at her. "Goodnight Ainsley." A moment later, she left.

He took a deep breath and tried not to over analyze everything that had just happened. Instead, he took it for what it was and not what it could be. Tonight had been a good night.


	6. A Saucy Email Scandal

**A/N: Little bit longer chapter this time, with some awkward moments :P Still tons more to come!**

 **Washington D.C.**

 **The West Wing**

Sam took a deep breath and tried to allow himself a moment for his nerves to recede. They did not. He knew he had fucked up, again. There was no changing the past, the only good he could possibly do now was come clean about it and hope that he wouldn't lose his job.

He knocked on the door to the White House counsel's office.

"Come in."

He opened the door, made eye-contact with Oliver Babish, and quickly shut the door behind him again.

"Hey Oliver," Sam said as he turned around and took a seat in front of the Chief Counsel's desk. Oliver eyed him suspiciously.

"You didn't sleep with another prostitute did you?"

"No, and to be fair, I slept with her completely blind to the fact that she was a…lady of the night," Sam retorted.

Babish went quiet for a few seconds as he leaned in closer and joined his hands like he was about to pray.

"So what exactly did you do that's sending you down here and interrupting my already busy schedule?"

Sam took a deep breath. Here it goes. "I used a government computer to open an attachment in an unmarked email that contained a virus that in turn loaded my hard drive with thousands of files of pornography."

Babish didn't speak. Instead of further interrogating Sam, he got up from his desk, grabbed his briefcase and coat, and made his way to the door. Sam turned around in his chair confusingly.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"I told you I've got a very busy schedule today, and this is something Ainsley can take care of."

Oh Dear God no. Not Ainsley. Anyone but Ainsley. Sam had opened his mouth to object, but Oliver Babish was already yelling out the door.

"Ainsley Hayes! My office now!" Babish turned back to Sam. "Don't look so worried, this isn't as bad as your first scandal." That's when Ainsley came into view, looking as bright as ever. She wore navy blue khaki's and a flowy white blouse. Her White House ID hung around her neck like a medal. She looked once at Sam and then back to Babish, who had already started speaking.

"Sam needs to know if he broke any policy rules or regulations by accessing…unwanted content on a computer that is property of the federal government. I don't have the time, so go over the usual questions and then report back to me when you're done." Ainsley nodded and with that Oliver Babish left them alone in the office. She shut the door behind him and Sam watched her walk right past him, sit down at Babish's desk, pull a six-inch binder out of one of the drawers and smack it down on the desk in front of them. She looked back up at him.

"So, what did you do exactly?" she asked professionally.

He sighed again, knowing it would be ten times harder to have this conversation with her than it would be with Babish. "I opened an attachment from an unmarked email address on a government computer. The email attachment contained a virus that infected my hard drive with unwarranted pornography."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Is there any type of pornography that's unwarranted when it comes to you Sam?"

He tried to keep a straight face and spoke firmly. "Ainsley this is serious."

"I apologize," she said, which instantly reminded him of the night she had said those same two words after admitting that she had wanted to kiss him. Great.

"It was your work email correct?" she asked taking his thoughts back to his mistake.

"No." He answered simply. She looked at him more concerned now. "No?" she asked.

"No," he confirmed.

Her facial expression told him she was disappointed. "Sam, you know White House code doesn't allow-,"

"The use of personal email accounts while operating a system within the West Wing yes, I'm aware," he said interrupting her but continuing where he knew she was going.

She sighed and flipped through probably thirty pages of the binder, proceeding to read to herself while he sat there feeling like a kid in the principal's office. A moment later she looked back up at him.

"Has the computer you were working on been cleaned of the virus?" she asked.

"Yes, I took it down to IT immediately and they turned the hard drive over to the FBI this morning," he answered confidently.

"The email…you said it was from an unmarked sender?" she inquired.

"Yes."

"Then why did you open it?"

"I open all my emails."

"Even the one's containing pornography?"

He scowled and she smirked. "It contained a virus that contained porn, I wasn't sent porn directly."

She pursed her lips and nodded. "Okay," she said simply, then looking back down to the binder. A few seconds of silence went by.

"Ainsley I-,"

"Shh," she said putting up her index finger to shush him. He did. Another ten seconds of silence as she read quietly to herself from the binder. Finally, she looked back up at him.

"I'm going to need to ask you some…personal questions, just to clear your name."

"Clear my name?" he asked now slightly offended. "I made an honest mistake!"

"That may be so, but I still have to ask," she retorted. "Let's just say this isn't the first time we've had an issue with pornography in the West Wing."

Sam smiled. He'd bet 100 bucks their last issue was a man by the name of Lyman. Josh Lyman.

"Have you ever accessed this personal email account on government property before?" she asked.

"Yes," he said truthfully. He had never been hacked before, nor would he put the sensitive information that he dealt with at risk purposely, he thought the White House computers were supposed to be secure.

"Have you ever accessed pornographic websites or exchanged pornographic material while using a government computer before?"

"No," he said, then his eyes lit up, remembering one time that he had. She must have taken notice of his reaction.

"Sam, I don't want to scare you, but lying to the White House counsel is not a good place to start if you want to clear your name of any wrong-doing," she said firmly. "As White House counsel, I need to know if you've ever accessed porn or solicited porn while on government property."

He gulped, hating how he knew she was about to judge him. Her opinion of him would go crashing through the floor, both professionally and socially. "Yes," he answered.

Ainsley again raised her eyebrows at him. "Explain to me the circumstances under which this happened."

He shook his head, "Ainsley is this really necc-,"

"Absolutely it is Sam," she said cutting him off before he could finish. "Now answer the question."

He looked down at the floor in guilt. "Laurie, you know, the woman I slept with-,"

"The prostitute yes," she said interrupting him again. He looked back up at her defensively.

"She's a law student," he said, realizing how frustrated he was getting at her for simply stating the facts.

"Fine, former prostitute," Ainsley said leaning back in the chair and crossing her arms. "Continue."

"During the time we were seeing each other she sent me a photo one night late at the office. I opened my personal email, saw who it was from and clicked on it."

"Did you send one back?"

Her question shocked him. "What? No, no Ainsley I did not send one back and to be honest I'm a little offended you think that I would."

"Good," was all she said before moving on to the next question. "How long did you wait between opening the email attachment and sending your hard drive down to IT?"

He tried to remember exactly how long it had been. "I tried to fix it myself first, it was maybe fifteen minutes…,"

She sighed and leaned in closely. "Sam."

"Yeah?" he asked using his index finger to scrape the side of his skull in frustration.

"Are you telling me the truth?" she asked simply. He could feel her minty warm breath on his face and smelled her perfume. Her scent calmed him, allowing him a moment to process her question.

"Yes, wait, why are you asking me that?"

"We need to confirm you weren't…indulging in the contents of the virus, and fifteen minutes alone in your office late at night with a hard drive full of pornography doesn't sound good."

He was a bit taken by what she was implying. He would never, nor had he ever stimulated himself in his office and especially not to virus porn.

"Jesus Ainsley," he said trying to remain calm, even though her scent had receded from his nostrils and he snapped back into the gravity of the situation. "I tried to fix it, when I realized I couldn't I took the hard drive down to IT and they cleaned it up from there."

She didn't say anything. She just sat there, staring back at him intensely as if she was trying to decide whether or not he was telling the truth. A moment later she flipped a page in the binder and continued her questioning.

"The pornography that the virus contained, was any of it illegal?" she asked simply.

"Not to my knowledge," he replied, though he had only seen maybe a fraction of what had been on the hard drive according to the guys in IT.

"Have you ever watched illegal pornography before?" she asked.

"Jesus Christ, Ainsley, do you really have to ask me that?" He couldn't believe she would even insinuate-

"I'm sorry Sam," she said now sounding defeated and almost ashamed. She took off the cute glasses she had been wearing for the past five minutes and rubbed her eyes. "It's what's in the binder."

He sighed, not wanting her to feel bad. She was just doing her job after all. "It's okay, and it's my fault, I should never have accessed my personal email at work. Let's just get this over with."

She returned the glasses to her face and cleared her throat, pausing before she read the next question.

"Have you ever watched pornography?"

He couldn't believe that was a question, in fact, he didn't believe it at all, but he answered anyways.

"Yes, I'm no connoisseur but yes."

She gave him the classic 'this-isn't-a-joke' look, but combined it with a flirty smile, a smile he remembered seeing that night after the crime reform party, a smile he had only seen on rare occasion. She shut the binder, threw it back into the drawer from which it came and stood up. He stood up as well, not knowing what was going to happen next.

She took off her reading glasses and slipped them inside her pocket before looking up at him.

"Okay, we're done," she said plainly.

"That's it?" he asked.

"Well I wouldn't say that was nothing," she said whilst moving around the desk to retrieve a glass from Babish's cabinet where he kept the water pitcher. "You did just admit to your coworker that you watch pornography, and that you once received a nude picture from a former prostitute."

"But I won't be held responsible for any legal action?" he asked as she poured a glass of water for herself, and then grabbed a second glass and poured one for him.

"None, but I am reporting what we talked about to Babish, who will most likely inform Leo, so if he sees any fit punishment it will be up to him, but I've got a good feeling you'll be fine." She turned and handed him the glass of water. She then clinked their glasses together and took a swig, he held his steadily in his hand. She set her glass down on the desk and looked up at him.

"Sam."

He broke out of his prison of thoughts and looked down at her. "Yeah?"

"You didn't do anything besides make an irrational mistake. And you followed it by doing the right thing and taking the hard drive down to IT and then reporting the breach to the FBI." She suddenly reached up and touched his cheek lightly with the palm of her hand. She was so warm, yet he froze again. She always made him freeze, how come he could never function properly around her?

"Don't worry about it and get back to work," she said softly. Her hand fell from his cheek and she walked towards the door, pausing before completely exiting Oliver Babish's office. He noticed this and she turned slightly, her piercing blue eyes once again coming into full view of his own.

"You're not the only one who watches porn Sam, I happen to think it's completely natural."

He gulped again muttering a simple, "you do?"

She nodded. "Well that and I kind of have a thing for men who are taller than me." She winked and she was gone.

Sam let out a deep breath and stood there in the empty counsel's office. That definitely could have gone worse.


	7. Little Talks

**A/N: This is the first chapter I've written from Ainsley's perspective, but it certainly won't be the last. :D Please review!**

 **Washington D.C.**

 **The West Wing**

Ainsley Hayes was having a rough day. So far, she had been questioned about her knowledge of the Constitution by a Democratic blue-dog Congresswoman which was followed by a meeting with three other congressmen where the rumor of her 'Republicanism' had spread. The Congressmen spent the next two hours hounding her about how she could possibly carry out her duty as White House Counsel as a Republican. She could take being teased by the constant flow of Democrats in and out of the building, but when people questioned her loyalty to the administration, that's what pissed her off.

This meeting was followed by, of course, another meeting. This one with her lovely boss, the ever optimistic Oliver Babish, who had instructed her to sift through endless files on the legality of CJ's most recent leaked press release. So she had spent the next three hours in a small room, surrounded by paper and only had one interruption, when Babish had come in and told her 'never mind'. So there went three hours of work.

After this, she spent an hour collecting lunch, but on the way back her car had broken down, and she was forced to wait thirty-five minutes for a tow truck. After she had walked the twelve blocks to the White House, she was stopped at the gate by Secret Service, who told her they had crashed the building, for the third time in two weeks. So she had sat outside and ate her soggy sandwich, which the clerk at the sub shop had forgotten to add tomatoes too. Yay.

When she had finally gotten back inside the building, she was confronted by Josh, who had told her that he, Donna and Charlie were planning on going out for drinks sometime later tonight, which she would have loved to do, but she had to pick up her car from the auto shop. And by this time, she had also found out it was going to cost around two-thousand dollars to fix it. So yes, her day was rough. And it still wasn't over. Not that days at the White House were ever really over.

Ainsley knocked on CJ's door and glanced at her cell, 8:34 pm. There was a familiar shout from the other side of the door and Ainsley turned the doorknob and entered the office.

"Good evening Ainsley, what's up?" CJ asked. Ainsley shut the door behind her and collapsed in the chair in front of her friend's desk.

"God, CJ, I'm just having the worst day…would you mind giving me a ride to an auto shop later tonight?" Ainsley asked and put on her best puppy-dog eyes, even though she knew CJ was nice enough to do it anyways.

"Oh, yeah of course," CJ answered, "Though I might be here pretty late, the President just got news that two American journalists went missing in Zanzibar."

"I don't mind waiting," Ainsley replied quickly, then picking her head up from her lap and looked confusingly back at CJ. "Isn't Zanzibar an island that's like… 60 miles long?"

CJ nodded. "Something like that yes."

"Then how did-,"

"I don't know, but that's what we intend to figure out," CJ said finishing Ainsley's thought. "Until we do, I've got to amend the press briefing for tomorrow morning."

CJ went back to typing at her computer and Ainsley stood up, pacing around the room and admiring her things. Babish had gone home by now, she didn't have anything to do, nor did she want to do much of anything. The TV was on, tuned to NBC nightly news. The anchors were talking about the bombing of a hospital in Saudi Arabia that killed nine people and injured twenty-four others.

"Ainsley?"

She turned around suddenly, CJ was looking up at her from her desk. "Did you hear me?"

"No, sorry CJ," Ainsley said apologetically, "My mind is in so many different places right now, what did you say?"

CJ sighed and motioned back to the chair where she had just been sitting. "You wanna take a seat?"

Ainsley took the seat again and sat up as straight as she could, trying not to fall asleep. CJ had always made sure her office was the most comfortable in the West Wing. The small pillow touching Ainsley's back made her feel like she was already at home in bed.

"I was saying that Sam was in here earlier wondering about you," CJ said simply, not taking her eyes off her computer screen.

Ainsley tried to hide her excitement and shifted in her seat, perking her head up. Her day had suddenly just gotten a little bit better. She hadn't seen him in two days, but to know he was wondering about her was enough.

"Wondering?" she asked, clearing her throat.

"That is what I said," CJ replied, still glued to her work.

"What…what did he say?" Ainsley asked, keeping her hands in her lap.

CJ smiled and broke. She took off her glasses and opened a drawer in her desk, pulling out two small glasses and a bottle of wine. Ainsley smirked at her and CJ returned her glance as she poured them both a bit of the alcohol. CJ handed Ainsley her drink and clinked their glasses. CJ shot hers down with passion, while Ainsley took a small sip.

"Merlot?" Ainsley asked.

"Napa county, 1997," CJ replied.

"It's good, but I'm more of a beer girl."

CJ winked and waited for Ainsley's response, obviously teasing the information she had. Ainsley couldn't take it any longer.

"Okay tell me what he said!" She nearly shouted.

"He asked me if I knew anything about you that he didn't," CJ answered calmly.

Ainsley was confused. "Well, what did you say?"

"I asked him why he was asking."

"And?"

"And he said he was just wondering."

"So what did you say?"

"I told him that I didn't think so."

Ainsley frowned slightly. "Is that all you said?"

CJ kept on smiling back at her. "Yep."

"And that's all he said?"

"Yep."

Ainsley tilted her head back and groaned, covering her face with her hands. A second later she looked back over at her friend, who was pouring herself a second glass of wine.

"Is this usually how your and Sam's conversations go?" Ainsley asked plainly and with a hint of sass.

"That's usually how 99.9% of you're and I's conversations go," CJ pointed out.

Ainsley looked back at her friend, sweetly annoyed. "CJ, did he say anything of interest to you at all?"

CJ grinned. "Ainsley, he's wondering about you. If there's anything I know about my many years pursuing and being pursued by men of all sorts, it's that when a man asks a vague, semi-creepy question like that to one of his female coworkers about a different female coworker, it means he's interested. In _**you.**_ "

Ainsley smiled again. CJ was always right, right?


	8. Warming Up in Washington

**A/N: This chapter is rated M for sexual language. Thanks to everybody who's read so far, please review :)**

 **Washington State**

 **Olympic National Forest**

 **Grand Olympia Hotel and Lodge**

When the President had informed Sam and the other White House deputies he was making a trip to the west coast in a few days to declare a new national monument, Sam had been excited, ecstatic even. He always loved visiting California, his home state. And now he got to do it with the President and go somewhere beautiful or breathtaking as well. Sam had looked forward to the tropical breeze and the mid 70's temperatures of the central valley or the forests surrounding Los Angeles. It was only two days before the trip that Sam had found out what 'west coast' had meant.

The state of Washington has roughly 45 million acres of land in all. Of that 45 million, about half, specifically 22.19 million acres, is considered forestland. Of those 22.19 million acres of forested land, 70% is designated as protected and kept under careful care of the US national forest service. So why the President wanted to spend two days in Port Angeles (yeah, ironic right?) and declare a new national monument inside an already existing national park was unbeknownst to Sam.

Of course, while the President and First Lady were staying at the George Washington Inn down the road a ways, the rest of the staff was put up in the Grand Olympia Hotel and Lodge, which didn't sound bad at all. But compared to the five-star hotel that the staff usually stayed at while the President made his trips, the Grand Olympia Hotel and Lodge had a little work to do.

There was also the problem that it was March. In Washington. In one of the northernmost parts of Washington, no less. And it was snowing outside. Now, Sam had gotten used to snow, and used to the cold, but not small-town Pacific Northwest cold. With all the cars polluting the air around D.C. and the constant bustle of the industrial portion of the city, their cold had never gotten to that special point where icicles had the possibility to form on the end of their noses as they walked.

To be fair, it was only his room that didn't have a heater. But it was already 1 am, and he had spent the past two hours trying to keep CJ, Josh, and Will Bailey awake long enough downstairs so that he wouldn't have to go up to his room. They had all eventually succumbed to the endless desire to sleep, wimps. So there he was, lying on his cold bed, under cold sheets, fully clothed in his black sweater, blue jeans, wooly socks and overcoat, and he was still cold.

Screw it. Sam got up off the bed, grabbed his cellphone and tucked a pillow under his arm before exiting the hotel room. He closed his door quietly and walked to the adjacent room where he knew Josh was staying.

He knocked softly on the door three times. Nothing, not a peep. He whispered his friends name followed by an announcement, 'it's me Sam' he said. A moment later the door opened just a crack and Sam put on his best pretty please face.

"What is it?" Josh asked, keeping the door practically shut. Sam glanced down and saw his friend was wearing no pants and looked to be sweating.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked in return, curious about why Josh would be sweating.

"Yeah of course, I'm great, good, totally…good," Josh said quickly as if he was trying to get rid of him. "Why are you knocking on my door at one in the morning?"

"The heater in my room is broken, would you mind if I slept on the floor?"

Josh shuffled his feet and looked back behind him at something in his room that Sam was unable to see. He looked back to Sam a second later. "You know, uh, now's not really the best time."

Sam looked at his friend in disbelief. "You're joking."

"No, sorry buddy, hey, uh, try CJ." And then the door shut in Sam's face.

"Lovely," he whispered to himself, as he walked away from Josh's room, he could have sworn he heard a woman laughing. He shook it from his brain as he approached CJ's room. Again, he knocked softly on her door three times, whispering little 'CJ's' as he did.

She opened the door thirty seconds later, dressed in a red nightgown. Her eyes told him she had been sleeping.

"This better be important," she said opening the door.

"It's not, well, it is, but not to anyone but me," he said quickly not wanting to annoy her any more than he knew he already had. "The heater in my room is broken, mind if I sleep on the floor?" Sam recited, showing the pillow he had brought with him as a sign of good faith.

She looked down at the pillow and then back up at him. Smirking, she responded politely.

"No."

He was confused. "No you don't mind or no I can't?"

"No, you can't," she said, now smiling devilishly.

"Is there something going on I should know about?" he asked feeling out of the loop. She was hiding something, she always got that expression on her face when she was hiding something. CJ was a terrible liar, which was probably why she never won on poker night.

"No," she responded simply, "but I'm not the person you should be asking."

She shut the door. Two minutes. Two doors closed in his face. Two friends denying him the simple pleasure of sleep. What the hell was going on with these people tonight? Sam walked five more steps to the next door. Will. Will would have to let him in.

Sam repeated the same actions that had failed him at the last two doors and waited. Will opened it not more than five seconds later. He was still dressed head to toe in his usual work attire.

"Heya Sam, what's going on?" Will asked swinging the door completely open but remaining in the doorway. Sam heard the TV on and saw that Will had a large amount of papers spread out across the small coffee table in the corner of the room.

"Uh, the uh, heater in my room is busted and I was looking for a place to sleep…"

"Ah," Will said as he usually did before most sentences. "Well I'm afraid there's no sleeping going on in this room, Toby called me and wanted me to make some adjustments to the President's speech tomorrow, and now I'm down this rabbit hole of the history of national monuments and which bunny Theodore Roosevelt saved from a stampeding herd of buffalos. Did you know Theodore Roosevelt saved a bunny from a stampeding herd of buffalos?"

Sam shook his head, both as a response to Will's question, and also in disappointment that he still didn't have a place to sleep.

"Yeah, he actually had it transported back to the White House for his daughter Alice, surprisingly, it survived the entire two-month trip on carrots and dirty lake water. Amazing…"

"Yeah, amazing…," Sam said dejectedly, "Well, goodnight Will." He turned and began to walk away.

"Hey," Will nearly shouted after him, Sam turned. "Did you ask Josh? Or CJ?"

Sam pursed his lips and nodded his head. "Goodnight Will," he repeated.

Will nodded his own head in return. "Night Sam." His hotel room door closed a moment later. Sam sighed, and began to make his way down the staircase to the lobby.

Five minutes later, he was in the middle of what could be called a heated argument with the graveyard shift front desk clerk.

"So there's no place for me to sleep?!" Sam said loudly, he didn't care at this point. There was nobody else in the lobby except for him and the twenty-something kid he was arguing with. He knew the kid didn't deserve his anger, but he was just so damn tired he wasn't thinking straight.

"I'm sorry Sir," the kid replied. "As I said before, all of our rooms are booked."

Sam let out a deep breath of defeat. "Well can't I sleep down here? Like on that couch over there?" he asked pointing to the small leather loveseat that sat in front of a dying fireplace. It was certainly colder in the lobby than it was in a room, but at this point Sam would take anything.

"I'm sorry Sir, it's company policy, we can't let you sleep down here."

Sam groaned and let his head bang on the oak counter top once before looking back up at the clerk.

"When can I expect the heater in my room to be fixed?"

"I'm sorry Sir, but we won't be able to get a repairman out here until morning," the clerk answered plainly.

Sam slammed his fist down on the counter top in frustration and the clerk took a step back.

"I'm sorry Sir, am I going to have to call security?"

Sam's blood had reached its boiling point. "That depends," he replied, trying to remain as civil as possible before he completely lost it. "Are you going to keep starting every sentence with 'I'm sorry Sir'?"

Just as Sam thought he saw the clerks hand pick up the phone, there was a gust of cold wind at his back and he turned around a few seconds later to see the biggest surprise of the night.

"Is there a problem here?" Ainsley Hayes asked as she approached the front desk, smiling at both Sam and the young clerk. The boy responded before Sam could.

"No ma'am, are you checking in?"

"Yes," she replied quickly, taking out her ID and sliding it across the counter top. Then she turned and looked at Sam, who was still struck by her entrance.

"Why…why are you here?" Was all he could muster to say.

"CJ didn't tell you I was coming?" she said confusingly as the clerk ran her ID through the computer.

"I guess not."

The clerk interrupted their small talk and handed Ainsley her room key.

"Here you are Ms. Hayes, your number 16, if you need anything my name's Tom," Tom said smiling.

She smiled back at him. "Thank you Tom." She picked up her backpack and duffel bag and glanced at Sam, making note of the pillow under his arm and his state of dress.

"Why are you out here this late?" she asked. "Didn't I tell you, you should be getting more sleep."

"Believe it or not, that's exactly what I'm trying to do." She raised an eyebrow at him and he continued explaining his situation. By the time he had exhausted his lungs of all speech, they had arrived at the door to her room.

"So you need a place to sleep?" she asked.

He sighed. How many times did he have to say it to get it through this woman's head?

"Yes," he repeated, "And the prepubescent clerk won't let me sleep on the 1920's era loveseat in the lobby, so I guess I'll go back to my room, wrap myself in bath towels and see if I have any luck."

"Nonsense," she said oh-so-southern-like, "you can sleep in my room."

Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no…that wasn't a good idea under any circumstances, he would rather freeze to death. He began to back away from her, but she caught his eyes with hers and he quickly realized he was trapped.

"Sam, I'm not taking no for an answer," she said firmly staring at him. He gulped, nodded, and she smiled. She slipped her key into her door and pushed inside, him following blindly behind her. He was a lemming pup, following his leader unwaveringly off the cliff that she was choosing to jump off of. He had never known of an incident where two White House staffers had shared a hotel room, but maybe there was a reason for that.

She dropped the duffel bag on the floor near the end of the bed and grabbed a few items of clothing before turning around. "I'm going to take a quick hot shower and change," she said as she slipped by him and into the bathroom. "Do you want in?"

As warm as it was in her room, he still felt frozen. "Um, sorry?" he said over the sound of the shower turning on. Did she really just ask what he thought she had asked?

"Before I shower," she clarified as she came back out into the room, he looked over at her, she had already shed both her outer coats and shoes. He couldn't take his eyes off her body, her tight navy-blue sweater clung to her chest as her form-fitting jeans did the same to her legs. He quickly looked back up at her face, hoping she hadn't noticed him gazing.

"Oh, no thanks," he said nervously. "I'm just going to turn off the lights out here, if you don't mind."

"Go ahead," she said eyeing him like a hawk eyes its prey before turning around and disappearing back into the bathroom. He felt a sense of relief wash over him when he heard the door lock. As if this situation wasn't bad enough already.

Sam took one out of the four pillows off the bed and added it to the spot where his own pillow already lay, about six feet from the edge of the bed. He then shed his overcoat and sweater, leaving just his jeans and grey t-shirt on. He already felt so much warmer. Sam scanned the room for an extra blanket, and his eyes rested on a chest in the corner of the room. Upon opening it, he found just what he was looking for, a large, soft black blanket, enough to cover his body head to toe. Sam curled down on the floor of the hotel room, laid his head down on the pillows and began to try to fall asleep.

That proved harder than he thought. Three minutes later his mind had wandered back to Ainsley. She was just in the other room, not more than ten or twelve feet away, only separated by a locked door. Her naked body being pelted by little warm water droplets, fogging up the bathroom mirror. Her luscious blonde hair falling at her back, dripping wet. Her hands…running through it, touching other parts of her perfect body just like he so desperately dreamt of touching a woman.

He hadn't even been aware that he was erect until he heard the shower turn off and his eyes bolted open. He tried to remain calm, he had turned out the lights, as long as he maintained a steady breathing pattern, she would just think he was asleep. He turned away from the bathroom door to hide his face. Not more than a minute later, he heard the bathroom door open and he forgot everything about maintaining a steady breathing pattern, his boner still pressing against his jeans and his thoughts still racing at a million miles an hour.

Sam felt the vibrations in the floor as she slowly walked over to where he lay.

"Sam, what are you doing on the floor?" she asked plainly, obviously seeing right through his fake sleep.

He didn't turn to look at her, instead mumbling into his pillow, "Currently counting sheep."

He heard Ainsley sigh from above him. "You're not sleeping on the floor."

He tried to deflect her comment, he could tell she was going with this. And that would only make things worse. "Well, no I'm not asleep yet."

He felt more tiny vibrations in the floor as she moved away from him, towards the bed.

"Sam, this bed is big enough for the entire Women's caucus," she said, half seriously, half joking. The beds in the rooms were quite large, it wasn't like he would be forced to touch her, he hoped. Realizing he wasn't going to win this argument, he got up slowly from his spot on the floor and used his pillows to guard his mid and lower section, his desire had not gone away quite yet. And as soon as he made eye contact with her, he knew it wasn't going away anytime soon.

She had replaced her tight jeans and navy-blue sweater with sweatpants and a large oversized T-shirt that simply read 'Quantico' on the front. She was gorgeous. Absolutely stunning. She climbed into the large hotel room bed and he stood motionless in the middle of the room.

Her words saved him from further embarrassment. "Sam, could you get the bathroom light?"

In less than ten seconds he had flicked off the only light that remained in the room, thrusting them into almost pitch black and climbed into bed on the opposite side of where she lay. He laid one of the pillows between them and turned on his right side so he wasn't facing her. He would do everything he could to make sure this wouldn't get any more awkward.

"Goodnight Sam," she said softly from just a few inches away.

He breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe he was wrong, maybe she wasn't coming onto him, maybe she was just being friendly. Maybe. Either way, he was just glad to be warm.

"Goodnight Ainsley."


	9. The Morning After

**The Following Morning**

Sam dreamt that he was wandering out in the middle of the woods. Appropriate, considering the circumstances of his physical whereabouts. Then suddenly, a snowstorm blanketed the woods in three feet of snow and iced all the trees. Not knowing it was a dream he was sure he was going to die out there, alone. But then, just when all hope seemed lost, he spotted a cabin in the distance. Running through the snow to get to it, he tripped a few times on snow-covered rocks and stumps. But finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he made it to the front door of the cabin and just as he was about to try the handle, the door swung open. Before he could get a look at who was on the other side, he woke up.

It was bright in the hotel room, too bright, he blinked his eyes a few times letting them adjust. He was lying on his back, and turned his head slightly to glance at the clock. 8:06 am. Luckily, he wasn't required on the President's trip to Olympia National Forest today so he didn't have to get up yet.

As he adjusted his body, Sam froze mid-spin. Looking over in the direction of where Ainsley had been sleeping last night, he noticed she had moved, and so had the pillow that he had put between them. But that wasn't what made him freeze. A hand was resting on his chest, a woman's hand, that could only belong to one woman. He lifted up the bedsheets slightly to get a better look at the situation. Sure enough, Ainsley Hayes' small, delicate, gorgeous hand was resting on his chest, almost gripping his T-shirt in her fingers.

Looking back over at the rest of her body, he hadn't even realized how close she had gotten during the night. Her head lay on the edge of a pillow just a few inches away from where his shoulder currently rested and her body had shifted positions completely into the center of the bed. He didn't need to look under the sheets to know if he moved his leg two inches to the left he would be touching her thighs.

What should he do? What could he do? If he moved a single millimeter he feared she would wake up and catch him, maybe even accuse him of moving during the night. Maybe she would regret her decision to let him sleep in the bed with her and never speak to him again. He didn't want that…

After another long minute of deliberation, he decided he would try his luck by moving her hand off of his chest, if they weren't touching, she couldn't possibly be mad at him, right?

Sam lifted the sheet ever so slightly, reached down with his free hand, and hesitated before picking hers up. He had never touched Ainsley Hayes' hands before, never like this, and he couldn't deny that her fingertips on his chest did make him feel…wanted. No, he told himself, snap out of it. And he did, Sam picked up her soft hand with his almost forcefully gripping it in his own and began to move it carefully off of his chest.

During this process, he hadn't seen her eyes open slowly and a sudden realization streak across her face, leaving behind a grinning and fully awake Ainsley Hayes.

"Sam," she whispered, but loud enough for him to hear. He dropped her hand immediately and it fell in the space between his side and her torso, underneath the sheets. He glanced over at her.

She hadn't worn any makeup to bed, and yet, she was absolutely the most beautiful woman he had ever woken up too. The light that shone in through the blinds on the window illuminated her smile, casting him deeper into a daze.

"I uh, you…your hand was…I was just…," He mumbled not sure exactly where he had been going with that grouping of words. He had the skill to write the most powerful speeches for the most powerful man in the free world, but when it came to talking to Ainsley, she always left him speechless.

"Did you scoot closer to me while I was sleeping?" she asked softly. Sam couldn't take his eyes off her hair now, it graced her pillow with magnificence.

"No," he mumbled, "I think it was the opposite actually."

"Hm," Ainsley mumbled. She then slowly turned around and climbed out of the bed on the other side, stretching her arms and back as she did so. She stood up from the bed and walked into the bathroom, but didn't shut the door. Sam let his head crash back down onto his pillow. Phew.

"Did you get a good night's sleep?" Ainsley asked loudly from the bathroom.

"Um, yes. Yes, I did," he answered as he lie there trying to catch his breath. Of all the stressful situations that his job had put him through in the past few years, he never thought sharing a bed with Ainsley Hayes would be the one that took his breath away.

"Great," she replied a moment later as he heard the sink faucet come on. "So what are you working on while the President is up at Olympia?"

"Helping Will Bailey draft a speech for the Vice President's visit to Japan actually," he responded, sensing any talk of what had occurred last night was over. Thank God. He much preferred work mode to…whatever mode had existed between him and her over the past month. He climbed out of the bed and checked his appearance in the reflection of the sliding glass door that led to the small porch. His hair was a mess. He breathed into his hand, Christ…he needed to freshen up. He picked up his cellphone off the bedside table and walked to the front door, passing by the bathroom as he went.

Her voice stopped him from leaving. "Off to see Will?" she asked turning her head towards him as he turned his towards her. She was washing her face with a moist towel. They only stood about four feet from each other.

"Not yet, he's probably still sleeping," Sam lied. Will was a worker bee, he would've been up until 3 am last night and gotten up at 6 am this morning to finish whatever project he had been working on last night. Or to start on the Vice President's speech.

"Sam, you know you don't have to sneak out of here," Ainsley said as she approached him, coming out of the bathroom and into his personal space.

"I'm not sneaking out of here, I'm merely going to go back to my room quietly before anyone else gets up in hopes that no one will see me," he said truthfully. He knew lying to her wouldn't do him any good, but telling the truth might only encourage her. To do what, he didn't have a goddamned clue.

"All we did was share a bed Sam, it's not like we slept together," she said, almost giggling on the last three words. He had never heard her giggle before, it was cute, adorable even. And he couldn't help but grin.

"I know that, and you know that," Sam pointed out. "But Josh doesn't know that, and if anybody sees me, he'll find out, and then he'll carry that bag of rocks over my head until Inauguration Day."

"Well you can't shower in your room," Ainsley said firmly.

"I'll borrow Will's," he replied quickly and decisively.

"You're already here," she said softly and he swore she had gotten closer to him yet again. She was a minx.

"You need to shower too and I don't want to waste all your hot water," he answered.

"We can always share," she said simply and casually, like she hadn't just suggested that they shower together. She must have seen the absolute look of horror on his face because she quickly followed up on that statement. "Relax, I'm yanking your chain. I swear Sam, you are so easy sometimes."

Yeah, and you make me that way, he wanted to say. Instead he repressed his desire and opened the door to her room, nodding to her as he left. He shut the door behind him, trying to forget the look of disappointment on her face. He shook it from his mind as nothing more than a friend wanting to spend more time with another friend and proceeded down the hallway to his room. He was in desperate need of some fresh clothes and something to work on.


	10. Shots

**Washington D.C.**

 **The West Wing**

A week had passed since the trip to Washington State. Since Ainsley had invited him to share a bed with her, since he had woken up feeling her touch. A week since he had touched her, though it felt like he had spent a year away from her, the memory of her face lying next to his in the early morning light was distant. Sam had spent a fair amount of time thinking about her touch, her skin. He couldn't deny he yearned to feel her again, even if it was just for a moment. But that was a fleeting hope. Instead, he had immersed himself in work for the past week, focusing on working with Toby to write the main points to the President's upcoming State of the Union speech.

Because of this, he had barely seen her, only passing her by occasionally in the hallways of the West Wing. They had exchanged quick 'hello's and how are you doing' but nothing more than your average niceties. It was fine, he was fine. So what he shared a bed with a beautiful woman? It didn't mean anything, she had just extended him a friendly gesture because his heater had been broken and he needed a place to sleep.

There was a knock on his office door. Without looking up he told the visitor to enter. Whoever it was, they entered and shut the door behind them, the international sign for privacy. Sam looked up from his notepad.

"Hey," he said looking up at the woman he had been unintentionally avoiding for the past seven days.

Ainsley stood in front of his desk. "Hey."

He continued to stare at her. "What's up?" he asked, remembering how to effectively initiate a conversation.

She raised a finger as if to point at him, but then quickly retracted that action, crossing her arms instead and planting herself firmly in the spot where she stood. She cocked her head to one side and began to look at him like she would look at a Rubik's cube.

"Have you-," she stopped herself short of finishing that sentence and started a new one. "I talked to Josh earlier today."

Was that supposed to mean something to him? "Okay…," he replied taking off his glasses and leaning back in his chair. "You talk to a lot of people."

"I'm a popular girl," she retorted, "but that's not the point."

Sam grabbed the file on his desk, stood up and moved to the cabinet near the window to file it back in place. He really didn't have time for whatever this was right now. He turned back around to face her.

"So the point of you talking to Josh and then telling me that you've talked to him is what exactly?" he inquired, looking back at her confusingly.

He watched her chest rise as she took a deep breath. Oh boy.

"Sam-,"

His name had barely escaped the confines of her lips when the glass window behind them shattered and Sam heard three loud bangs. He recognized the sound instantaneously and threw his body at Ainsley, sending them both crashing down onto the carpeted floor of his office. He felt glass splatter across his back as he covered her body with his as best he could and squeezed his eyes shut. Two more loud bangs echoed in his eardrums and he instinctively pressed his body further onto Ainsley's so she couldn't move. He covered her head with his forearms and glanced back to the shattered window. Three breaths and four seconds later, the door to his office burst open and two Secret Service agents holding Sig Sauer pistols up in the air surveyed the scene. Then, upon seeing Sam and Ainsley on the floor, one of the agents spoke in a rushed tone.

"Is everyone alright?!"

Sam looked down from the agent to Ainsley, who was still closing her eyes. "Are you okay?" Sam still kept her pinned to the floor, he knew the drill, but he was also extremely and uncharacteristically concerned for her. She whispered back a small 'yes' and Sam gave a thumbs up and a 'we're all good' to the agents. They left the room immediately to check on everyone else, the door remained open and Sam and Ainsley remained on the floor.

Sam took a few deep breaths and stared down at the woman beneath him. She had opened her eyes, but was holding her hands on her ears like the shots were still ongoing.

"Ainsley," he whispered, "it's okay, it's over. We're safe."

Her eyes told him she didn't believe him, so he put his hands on hers, and slowly and delicately lifted her hands off her own ears. When he had successfully done that, he pushed himself up onto his knees, bringing her up with him. She was still scared and scooted over away from the view of the window and in front of his desk, where he joined her. She had not let go of his hands. He was happy about that.

Twenty-three seconds later, an agent popped his head around the door to inform them that they were crashing the West Wing, but that the initial threat had been eliminated. Sam thanked the agent and went to stand up, but Ainsley was not letting go of his hand. He looked over at her, propped up against the front of his desk like a ragdoll, he could still see the fear in her eyes.

He squeezed her hand in his and she looked over at him. "It's okay now," he whispered.

"I know…," she said. He heard the shakiness in her voice. She leaned into him and he leaned back into her. Then she did something that surprised him, something that made his heart skip a few beats.

Ainsley climbed onto his lap, facing the same direction he was, and curled up in a fetal-like position as she let a few tears run down her cheeks and onto his shirt. She let go of his hand and placed both of hers on his chest, taking his shirt in a firm grip, as if she was trying to hold on so that she wouldn't fall. Sam put one of his arms around her middle back, holding her into him as he used his free hand to stroke her hair.

"It's okay," he whispered into her ear, holding her closer than she had ever been. "It's okay."

They sat there, in his office as a thousand tiny pieces of glass lay just a few inches away on his carpet. Sam sat there, holding Ainsley in his arms, her legs touching his, her head resting on his chest for support as he whispered the smallest of reassurances into her ear. They sat together like that for a long time.


	11. Fear and Safety

**A/N: I actually don't have an author's note for this chapter, just hope you enjoy :)**

 **Washington D.C.**

 **The West Wing**

Thirty-seven seconds. From when the shooter fired the first shot at the White House to when he was subsequently shot and killed by Secret Service. Thirty-seven seconds where Ainsley had feared for her life.

CJ was to be starting a press briefing on yesterday's events in just a few minutes, and Ainsley was desperate to watch. She wanted to know everything, from the shooter's parents' names to which Secret Service agent delivered the kill shot. As if knowledge would somehow make her feel better. She had barely slept last night, and she wasn't quite sure exactly why that was. She had grown up around guns, even visiting the firing range a few times with her father when she was a teenager. But for some strange reason, when she had heard those bangs and saw the glass window shatter behind Sam, she was overcome with fear.

She knew Sam would be tuning in for the briefing as well, so that meant he was most likely in his office. She was glad that she had been with him when it happened, even if she was in more danger than she would have been if she had stayed in her downstairs steam pipe office. He could have been hurt had she not been there, maybe he would have been talking to somebody else or standing just two inches to the right and caught a bullet in the lung. She made a disgusted face, she didn't want to focus on the what if's right now, just the what is.

Ainsley walked through the bullpen where she had been many times before and made her way directly through the open door into Sam's office. The window had been covered in a grey sheet metal until it could be fully repaired and thus the office was darker than usual. Sam sat in his chair facing the small television in his office and hadn't heard her come in.

"CJ on yet?" Ainsley asked taking a seat in the spare chair across from his desk.

As if on command, Sam almost stumbled over backwards in his chair in surprise. Luckily, he saved himself and turned to look at her.

"Oh, hi," he said quickly, then calmly turning his attention back to the TV. "Carol just announced her."

Ainsley straightened herself in the chair and watched CJ walk up in front of the podium in the press room. The press immediately erupted in questions but she quickly settled them down.

"Quiet everyone, I have a statement to read and then we'll get to questions afterwards," CJ said commandingly. "This comes directly from the joint efforts of the FBI and Secret Service."

The press room went dead silent and Ainsley watched camera flashes begin to bounce of CJ like she was a celebrity on the Hollywood walk of fame.

"The incident yesterday occurred at approximately 2:38 pm in the afternoon and lasted a total of less than one minute. The FBI had identified the shooter as James Dale Carnvey, that's C-A-R-N-V-E-Y. Carol is currently passing around copies of his mugshot."

"CJ," interrupted one of the press core members, "This man had a criminal record?"

"If you'll all be so kind as to hold your questions until I have finished giving you the answers, that'd be marvelous," CJ responded in kind. Ainsley didn't know how she dealt with all that pressure, but she was glad it was CJ doing the briefing and not anybody else.

"As I was saying," CJ continued, "James Carnvey, 48 years old, Caucasian male from the D.C metro area. He grew up in a suburb in Virginia and moved to D.C just a few years ago to pursue work with a lobbying firm known as BioGen. He was recently divorced, and no the FBI will not be releasing the name of his ex-wife." CJ paused, and Ainsley knew she was about to drop a bomb. "Seven months ago, his only daughter died of brain cancer. He was pronounced dead on the scene yesterday and his body will undergo further autopsy at the FBI field office. I will take your questions now."

The room erupted in roars of blood-thirsty journalists, but CJ quickly chose one out from the crowd and the room went completely silent again.

"CJ, the mugshot that's being passed around, are you telling us he had a criminal record?"

CJ nodded. "Yes, Mr. Carnvey was arrested for DUI in 1993 by state police, served 23 hours in a county jail in Virginia, posted bail, and had his license suspended for eight months."

Again, the room erupted in questions. Ainsley was beginning to get the answers she wanted, even if they didn't make her feel any better.

"What does the FBI suspect as a possible motive?"

CJ let out an audible sigh. "As of right now, the lead investigator on the case has informed me that it's looking like a case of suicide by cop."

Ainsley glanced over at Sam, who was leaned in towards the TV and had his chin resting in his palm. She looked back to the TV to see CJ answering another question.

"No, Mark, we don't have reason to suspect he was a disenfranchised voter nor does the FBI think this was politically motivated. The area where the incident occurred was on the opposite side of the building from the Oval Office."

"And just to be clear," one reporter started, "nobody was injured in the attack?"

CJ paused and Ainsley knew exactly what she was thinking. No, nobody had been physically injured, but the entire staff of the West Wing had certainly been shaken for the remainder of the day. She would know, she still was.

"No," CJ replied, "three bullets hit a couple of office windows and the other two penetrated a few ferns but other than that, everyone is okay. I'm going to turn it over to our lead liaison now for the technical aspects, FBI agent Green will answer any of your remaining questions. Thank you."

Ainsley watched CJ step off the podium and the FBI agent begin to try and calm everybody down, but a second later the screen went black and switched off. Ainsley looked over at Sam, who held the remote in his hand. He turned his chair back to face his desk and began typing at his computer. She wasn't done yet.

"Suicide by cop…," she began, "couldn't he have just pulled a gun on a street cop instead of shooting at the White House?"

Sam sighed but kept his eyes glued to the computer screen. "He wasn't a healthily-minded person, I mean, nobody who has all their marbles shoots at the White House."

"Well I would reckon losing a daughter to cancer might be reason for that…," she replied quietly.

He suddenly took off his glasses with an almost scary speed and slammed his fist down on the desk.

"Damnit Ainsley, don't tell me you're trying to justify what this guy did! This isn't about if he had a reason or not this is about him putting other people's lives in danger because he was too much of a coward to live. These people that do these horrific things, that try to inflict pain onto others, they don't think like we do, they don't process things the way you and I do."

So he wanted to argue. Okay, she could argue. "Sam, you're being completely irrational and you're saying things because you're emotional," she said loudly enough to conquer his tone. She heard the door slam shut behind her, thank God, she didn't need anybody hearing what she was about to say to him.

"This man had a reason for shooting at the White House, I'm not saying it's justifiable, I'm simply trying to get it across your thick skull that you can't dismiss everything bad that happens simply because you don't have a clear answer. News flash Sam, you don't know what was going through this guy's head as he pulled the trigger, and neither do I, and neither does the FBI. This man shot five bullets at the White House and was killed by twenty. To this man, this now deceased man, this was more than a random act of violence, and I accept that, regardless of what you think you know."

Sam stared back at her with a frustration she had not seen before and had she not known him better, she might have thought he was going to shout her out of his office. Instead, he took a calm and offensive approach.

"Is this about guns?" he asked simply.

Now she was about to shout him out of his office. "How dare you ask me that."

"This is exactly what I can't stand about you Ainsley," Sam started, getting up from his chair and pacing around the small office while he scratched his forehead. "You think that everyone in the country should have an absolute right to gun ownership, whether it be a civil war era musket or an AR-15, and yet, the moment you get shot at, or are put in harm's way because of some psycho with a gun, you and all of your friends in Congress bring out the PowerPoint that somehow illustrates how more gun ownership will decrease crime and deter radical criminals. It's infuriating how you think adding more waste to the river will in any way make the river cleaner."

Ainsley was fuming to the point of no return. How could he be so foolish? How could this amazingly intellectual man not see that this wasn't about guns? Why did everything with him always have to be so political? She stood up from her chair and swiftly cornered him near the shielded window, pointing a finger up at him as she shouted.

"You're going to talk to me about infuriating?!" She shouted up at him. "You are quite possibly the most blindly idealistic person I have ever met! It never matters to you what anyone else believes Sam, because you are such an arrogant jerk that you already think you know all the right answers! This isn't about guns Sam! This is about you and me and how that man could have killed you yesterday!"

As she stared back into his big brown eyes, she saw something change. He went from angry and upset to confused and concerned, for her. Ainsley hadn't realized she had nearly pushed her body up against his, her chest was heaving from the shouting match they had just engaged in, as was his. They both took a few deep breaths, but she was the first to break the silence.

"Sam…," she said speaking softly and looking down at the carpet between them. "When I saw the window shatter behind you yesterday, I was scared, more scared than I think I've ever been…and I wasn't scared for myself. I knew that when you covered me with your body, it was you who could have been…," she couldn't bring herself to say it, "hit." She let out a deep breath and looked up at him again. "My reasoning isn't political or even intellectual, and maybe that's where I went wrong. But, Sam, when we sat here in your office afterwards, as the bullets that could've killed you remained embedded in the wall above our heads, all I could think about was how lucky I was not to have lost you."

He stared back down into her eyes. The argument was over. Neither of them had won. They didn't need to win, she just needed him… and that was that.

He wrapped his arms around her upper back as he brought her in for a hug. She quickly wrapped her own arms around his torso, not wanting to let go and squeezing him as close to her as he could get.

"You should be doing my job Ainsley Hayes," he said softly into her hair as he held her to him for the second time in twenty-four hours. "That's the single-most powerful thing anyone's ever said to me."

She let a small smile form on her lips. "I never said thank you for nearly crushing me to death yesterday."

"And you're saying it now I take it?"

"Sam Seaborn, if you tell anyone I opened myself up to you like this-,"

"You'll crush me to death?"

She smiled wider and unwrapped herself from his embrace. Looking back at him as she turned to leave his office, she was more than glad to see a similar smile had appeared on his face.


	12. Unus Patrem, Unus Filio

**A/N: And so begins the era of miscommunication :P Thanks to everybody whose read so far, there's still so much to come. Please, if you liked it or have suggestions on where future chapters should go, maybe what you'd like to see, leave a review or pm me. Thanks :)**

 **Washington D.C.**

 **The West Wing**

"Ante up everyone, I want to see those chips."

Sam took the small red chip from his quickly diminishing pile and threw it in the center of the round table, where he and his four friends sat. It was Saturday night. Poker night. Also known as Sam's favorite night of the week.

Why it was his favorite night of the week when he lost money almost every week, he didn't know. Maybe it was just the spending time with friends and not having to worry about what speech needs to be written or when his next meeting on Capitol Hill was. Most often poker night was interrupted and the President wasn't able to join them for a full game, but this night was almost unusually quiet in the world. No military coups, no captured Americans being held for ransom, no foreign leaders threatening other foreign leaders, no boundary disputes. It was a good night for poker.

"Toby?" CJ asked staring across the table at the smoking man.

He huffed a circle of smoke out of his mouth. "Check."

CJ switched her watchful gaze over to the next in line. "Josh?"

"Bet," Josh responded in kind. "Five."

"Sam?" CJ asked looking over in his direction. Sam glanced down at the hand he had been dealt and then at the three center cards in the middle of the table. He swore CJ had this game rigged every night, but decided to bluff anyways.

"Call," he said.

"I raise," CJ said confidently throwing two chips down in the center of the table. "Ten."

Sam looked to the next and final player of their game tonight, as did everyone else. The President had a mean poker face.

"Why Claudia Jean do you really have what it takes to challenge me tonight?" The President asked keeping his eyes on his cards.

"No Sir, nor do I ever, I think it's just the alcohol," she responded sounding over-the-top polite. Josh snorted and Sam heard Toby even chuckle to himself as he took another puff off the cigar.

"Are you going to sit there and continue admiring your hand Mr. President or are we going to play?" Josh asked leaning forward slightly in his chair. Sam could almost see his cards…damn he leaned away again.

Sam looked back to the President who took a deep breath. He knew what was about to happen.

"Can anyone name-,"

Toby was the first to groan, followed by CJ, then Josh, and finally himself as Sam leaned back in his chair and stared up at the ceiling.

"Oh stop pestering me, I have a right to the first amendment just as you all do," the President responded wittily.

"Well yes Sir," Toby said, "but right now, we're not exercising that right, we're just trying to play poker."

"And quite badly might I point out," the President retorted. "Now, let me finish. Can anyone name the only species of bird on this Earth that can see the color blue?"

Nobody said anything for a few seconds, until Sam remembered something he hadn't heard since college.

"The owl, Sir," Sam answered. The President looked at him for the first time during the entire game.

"Good answer, but I also would have also accepted 'noctua'," the President answered as he threw two chips into the center pile. "I call."

"What's noctua?" CJ asked as Toby threw another two chips in the pile and repeated the President's call. "It's Latin, for owl, or in other dialects, horned beast," Toby replied.

"Been brushing up on your Latin Toby?" Josh asked as he pushed three more chips into the center of the table. "I raise another fifteen."

"One needs not to brush up on it when one is already well-versed," Toby answered as Sam looked down at his cards again. The card that CJ had put down after the President's turn did him no good anyways.

"Fold," Sam said throwing his cards down on the table.

Just as CJ looked to be raising the stakes once again, the door to their private underground room opened and in walked a military man, Sam recognized the stripes on the side of his uniform as those of a Lieutenant.

"Mr. President, you're needed in the situation room, it's a code blue Sir," the Lieutenant said firmly.

The President sighed and let his cards fall to the table for all to view as he got up from his chair. "Thank you Lieutenant, I'll be right there."

CJ was the first to get a good look at the President's hand as Sam, Josh and Toby all leaned across the table a little closer to see if they were being led on.

"Mr. President, you're the biggest bluff I've ever met!" CJ nearly shouted as the President made his way out of the room. He looked back to CJ and the group one last time.

"Dum Spiro, Spero, Claudia Jean," the President then shifted his attention to Sam. "Walk with me Sam."

Sam got confused glances from everyone as he stood up from the poker table and followed the President out of the room. As he closed the door, he heard a befuddled Josh shouting.

"Now what the hell does that mean!?"

Sam hurried to catch up with the President who was already halfway down the hallway. The President started speaking before Sam could formulate a thought, which was usually how it went.

"I was disappointed Sam I thought Miss Hayes would be joining us tonight," the President said loudly and clearly as they ascended the staircase out of the basement. "You know I think she's a very smart woman, and she probably has a killer poker face. Hell, she could probably beat me at my own game!"

"Your own game Sir?" Sam asked confusingly as he and the President rounded the corner into another almost empty hallway of the West Wing.

"Yes Sam my own game, my cards my rules, now if only I could get the North Koreans to play," the President said, chuckling as they fast walked towards the situation room.

Sam muttered back a quick, 'Yes Sir', but the President was already speaking again. Nobody had ever said Josiah Bartlet was the quiet kid in the class.

"Do you know where she is tonight?"

Sam stuttered. "Uh, I'm sorry Sir?"

"Miss Hayes," the President elaborated. "Do you know why she refused to join our little gathering tonight?"

"Oh, uh, no Sir, no…I don't," Sam lied.

The President saw right through his lie. Yet another obvious super power of his. "Don't lie to me Sam, I can have you detained indefinitely and shipped off to some South American prison for simply using the word 'gun' in my presence."

And there was the President's classic and yet extremely horrifying sense of humor again. Sam knew he couldn't possibly do that…could he?

Sam decided it was best just to tell him, even if he got an earful. "Well, I…I didn't ask her Mr. President."

The President stopped walking and gave the eyes to Sam that he had seen him give unwilling members of Congress before. Sam froze in his tracks.

"You didn't extend my invitation?" he asked looking at him as if Sam had committed a crime.

"No, Mr. President, I did not."

The President looked offended. That wasn't a good sign. "Well why the hell not? I asked you too didn't I?"

"Yes Sir," Sam answered as the President suddenly continued striding towards the situation room once again as Sam tried to follow closely behind. "I apologize Sir, I really do. Ainsley and I-,"

"Are you two having problems?" The President asked taking Sam by surprise. Problems? That simple question was more confusing than the President's endless knowledge of Latin riddles.

"I'm sorry Sir?"

"Sam are we speaking two different languages right now because I'm having difficulty grasping what you're getting at and I haven't even hit 60 yet, so I know it's not my hearing," the President said, now obviously more confused than Sam was.

"No sir, I just mean, well, what do you mean by problems?" Sam asked as they passed by the Oval Office.

"Whatever problems you two might be having I don't know," the President answered quickly. "I've known a lot of politicians in my time Sam, plenty of whom had disagreements with their significant others on matters of politics, but let me tell you, it's the strong ones who push on."

Disagreements? Significant others? Strong ones? What exactly did the President think was going on? The pair descended a marble staircase as they neared the situation room. Sam knew he had to ask now or this conversation would be long forgotten.

"Mr. President-," he began just as they approached the doors to the situation room and stood about four feet from the two Marines who guarded it. The President whirled around and faced Sam, stopping him in his tracks.

"Listen, young Samuel," he said with a tenderness that Sam had only ever heard him take up with Charlie. "You two are both wonderful, beautiful, intellectual, hard-working and passionate people. And you're young! You have plenty of time to work things out, don't feel like you have to hide from each other on account of me or anybody else." And with that the President patted Sam on the chest like he was pinning a medal of bravery on him and turned to walk into the situation room. The two Marines at the doors opened them, revealing an entire table of military generals and foreign advisors waiting inside. Sam was still in shock as to what had just happened when the President turned around one last time to face him.

"And Sam, sometimes the best sex is make-up sex." The President winked, nearly shouting in front of an entire room of high-ranking US officials. The man had no shame. It was admirable. The Marines shut the doors to the situation room and Sam was left standing there helplessly confused, hands in his pockets as he tried to deduce exactly what the President had been referring too.


	13. The First Lady

**A/N: This was the first chapter I wrote that I actually sort of fell in love with. I adored Mrs. Bartlet in the TV show and think she is an excellent character, hopefully I did her justice. Enjoy!**

 **Washington D.C.**

 **White House Residence**

"Mrs. Bartlet is waiting for you."

Ainsley thanked the aide and walked through the open door into the foyer of the White House Residence. She had never actually visited the residence before, let alone stepped foot anywhere but the West Wing, and wow was it grand. The high ceilings held two beautiful golden-encrusted chandeliers and the furniture reminded her of what she had seen on her trip to Buckingham Palace a few years back. Whoever said the current occupants of the White House didn't have class were truly mistaken. Ainsley's time to admire the surroundings had moved by however as Mrs. Bartlet stood up from one of the two couches in the center of the foyer near the famous half-domed window.

"Ainsley it's nice to see you, you look good," Mrs. Bartlet said as Ainsley approached the First Lady and shook her hand. "Have you been sneaking into the White House gym?" she teased.

"No ma'am, I'm afraid my job doesn't allow time for such trivial notions as personal health," Ainsley replied wittily, "But I was blessed with a more-than-stellar metabolism."

"Well here, take a seat," the First Lady said motioning to the couch Ainsley stood adjacent too. She did and laid out her binder on her lap as Mrs. Bartlet took a seat on the couch opposite to her.

"So, Oliver Babish informed me you wanted to go over the language of my proposal to the AMA," the First Lady said as she took a sip of her tea.

"Yes, I was reading it over and-,"

"Oh!" Mrs. Bartlet said suddenly, stopping Ainsley midsentence. "I'm sorry honey I forgot my manners, would you like something to drink? Gerald-!"

"No Mrs. Bartlet," Ainsley said quickly and politely. Honey. The woman might be from New Hampshire, but she certainly didn't lack that familiar sense of southern charm. "I'm fine thank you, really."

Mrs. Bartlet shooed away Gerald the aide and looked back to Ainsley fully attentive. "Okay, then let's get down to it, shall we?" Ainsley nodded and opened her binder of legal documents.

"Well to be said first, as I'm sure you're aware," Ainsley started, handing over a single piece of paper to the First Lady for her viewing. "You cannot under any circumstances propose that they reinstate your license to practice medicine, even if it's just to give flu-shots on the weekends."

Mrs. Bartlet put on her glasses and glanced over at the sheet of paper. "Jed as well as CJ have both made me fully aware of that yes, as has nearly every single fake doctor that's appeared on Oprah in the last three months."

Ainsley knew losing her medical license had been tough on the First Lady. She couldn't imagine not being able to do what she loved because she accidentally lied on a simple medical form for her daughter's entrance to college. It even made Ainsley mad when she learned the AMA had revoked it.

She tried to lighten the mood a bit. "Oprah's not a fan of you ma'am?"

"Oh no," Mrs. Bartlet responded taking off her glasses and handing the paper back to Ainsley. "Oprah loves me, as I love her. It's those damn psychologists and physiatrists she has on her show that are always hounding my ass. As if the AMA is the do-all, end-all when it comes to medicine."

Ainsley grinned at that and saw Mrs. Bartlet had too. She had always been someone Ainsley admired, even before she had begun to work (and live) at the White House. She was an independent woman in a strong man's bureaucratic administration and yet, she still found a way to be a pain in the ass. She was amazing.

Ainsley cleared her throat and went back to her binder. Okay, next on the list. "Ma'am, I see here that your proposal includes requesting a stop to all fundraising and payouts to elected officials serving in Texas."

Mrs. Bartlet took another sip of her tea and leaned back into the couch. "That's right, but I prefer to think of it as an order rather than a request." The First Lady smirked back at her.

Ainsley took a small, but deep breath. Here comes the bad news. "Ma'am, I'm not your lawyer so I can't technically advise you on what you shouldn't do-,"

"But, you're about to advise me anyways," Mrs. Bartlet interrupted.

"Yes." Ainsley answered simply. "As you know, with the President's situation in Texas, and the scandal concerning the AMA and their fundraising practices-,"

"I shouldn't be including that in my proposal," Mrs. Bartlet finished for her. Ainsley nodded. The First Lady sighed and almost sunk back into the couch before taking another sip of her tea.

"Ainsley, it's wrong," Mrs. Bartlet said clearly and firmly. "What they're doing in Texas is just wrong."

"Legally, Mrs. Bartlet, they haven't done anything wrong, the reports are still unconfirmed," Ainsley stated.

"But they're doing it, you know they're doing it and you know nobody is going to call them out on it!" Mrs. Bartlet's tone had gone from relaxed and slightly annoyed too boisterous and highly annoyed.

Ainsley didn't want to get on her bad side, so she nodded. "Yes ma'am it is. But as one of the President's lawyers, with his situation in Texas-,"

"Oh God yes, it's always about the President's situation isn't it?" Mrs. Bartlet said, cutting Ainsley off yet again, though this time with a bit more command. "You can't do this Abbey, the President's done this, or no that would be a rash thing to do Abbey, the President's got this in mind, and here are a thousand reasons why it's better!"

Mrs. Bartlet took a deep breath and laid down on the couch, sprawled out like she was going to fall asleep at any second. Ainsley didn't know what to do. She had never seen the First Lady blow up like that, so she stayed silent and closed the binder, waiting for confirmation to continue.

"I apologize Ainsley," Mrs. Bartlet said after a long thirty seconds of silence. She turned her head and looked over at Ainsley with a sudden seriousness. "Jed has always got me pushing things off or canceling speeches or revising plans. And I know all of them aren't his fault, it's just how it goes sometimes when you're the most powerful family on the face of the Earth. That said," Mrs. Bartlet said as she sat up straight on the couch once again to look back at Ainsley evenly, "Never let a man push you around, no matter how many rings he buys or how many times he takes you to Paris. Speaking of the egotistical men in our lives, how's Sam doing?"

Ainsley wasn't quite sure she had heard the last part of the First Lady's question. "I'm sorry ma'am?"

"How is Sam?" Mrs. Bartlet repeated. "I trust Jed isn't throwing too much work his way?"

That's strange Ainsley thought to herself. Why was Mrs. Bartlet wondering about Sam…more importantly why was she asking her?

"I believe he's doing just fine ma'am, although I'm not entirely sure of the reason as to why you're asking me of all people," Ainsley answered confusingly.

The First Lady held her tea cup up to her mouth so Ainsley was blocked from seeing the expression on her face as she spoke.

"Well you two are dating right?"

If Ainsley had requested a drink, she would have spit it out all over Mrs. Bartlet's stained glass coffee table. Instead, she tried to keep herself from giggling like an idiot, and the noise that had come out of her mouth sounded like a snort as a result. She looked back at the First Lady utterly perplexed.

"Excuse my bluntness ma'am, but where on God's green Earth did you here that?"

Mrs. Bartlet slowly lowered her tea cup and set it back on the coffee table. Her face had turned to stone.

"I am so sorry Ainsley, I had just figured since you slept together-,"

"We what?!" Ainsley said loudly enough for the aide to poke his head in the door. Mrs. Bartlet quickly ushered him away once more and turned her attention back the awe-struck White House counsel.

"You don't have to lie to me Ainsley," the First Lady said with sudden conviction. "I know what happened in Washington."

"With all due respect ma'am," Ainsley started, "I don't think you do." Was she talking about the Washington state trip? That seemed like it was years ago, even though Ainsley had never forgotten about it, nor would she ever.

"Mrs. Bartlet," Ainsley began again, retracing her steps to make sense of everything that had just come out into the open. "Would you mind telling me exactly what you think you know about Sam and I?"

The First Lady took a deep breath. "This is some big misunderstanding isn't it?"

Ainsley nodded.

"Shit. I told Jed everything…," Mrs. Bartlet whispered to herself, and then looked back up to Ainsley, who was still just as confused as she was. "I heard from a reliable and completely anonymous source that you two shared a room on the Washington state trip, and not because you had too, if you get where I'm-,"

Ainsley nodded her confirmation and Mrs. Bartlet returned the gesture, quickly going back to her explanation. "Ah okay, so before this whole gossip train left the station, I had my suspicions about the two of you, just seeing as how you interact and how he's always so close to you…but after that trip, well, let's just say the train reached its destination in my head. I just assumed after we had that shooting and being told that you two were, well, comforting each other that I was correct in my assumption."

It was Ainsley's turn to collapse back into the couch. So the First Family thought she and Sam were dating, wonderful. If they were so easily misled, how could they ever run a country?

"We're not together Mrs. Bartlet," Ainsley explained plainly.

"So you slept together once on a whim and decided screw every other aspect of the relationship? Wow," Mrs. Bartlet replied eyeing Ainsley up and down. "I bet your Republican counterparts in Congress are big supporters of your definition of family values."

"No, ugh, ma'am, we didn't sleep together, I mean," Ainsley said as she tried to gather the right words in her head to explain the complicated mess she had been drug into. "We did share a bed, but that was it. We absolutely did not have sex. See, the heater in his room was broken and so I offered…" She gave up halfway through the sentence, instead replacing it with "It's a long story."

Ainsley counted eight seconds of dreadful silence as she could practically watch the wheels turning in the First Lady's head.

"So you didn't sleep with him?" Mrs. Bartlet asked simply.

"No."

"Oh my God, how could you not?!" Mrs. Bartlet was suddenly very loud and very surprised. Ainsley shrugged her shoulders. Mrs. Bartlet quickly moved around the coffee table to sit next to Ainsley on the couch where she sat and kept her voice low.

"If you ever mention I said this to Jed or any other man who is capable of speaking English I will personally pack your desk up and walk you out of this building myself, is that clear?" Ainsley nervously nodded and watched as the First Lady of the United States immediately turned into a high school girl on the cheerleading squad.

"Have you even seen Sam Seaborn?" she asked rhetorically, not giving Ainsley a chance to reply. "I mean the man is a… _ **man.**_ He is just sculpted like a Ken doll. And that hair, oh girl, don't even get me started on his hair. What I would do just to run my fingers through it one time-,"

"Mrs. Bartlet," Ainsley said not wishing to hear anymore. "I get it. Sam is attractive. And while I don't deny that-,"

"Oh please Ainsley," Mrs. Bartlet pleaded with her, "I don't get to gossip about men anymore, please don't take that tone with me. Talk to me like you would a friend. A friend who loves to talk about young…strapping men." Ainsley nodded her silent agreement and Mrs. Bartlet continued.

"You are sexually attracted to him yes?"

Not being able to deny her 'friend' any longer, Ainsley decided it was best just to try and get this over with as quickly as possible so she could get back to work.

"Yes," Ainsley answered truthfully. Sam was certainly handsome, and maybe, just maybe when she had shared a bed with him that one night she had thought about…the possibility of it. But only once had it crossed her mind before she had fallen asleep.

"Do you like him?" Mrs. Bartlet asked, interrupting her thoughts yet again.

"I…," Ainsley thought for a second, trying to come up with an answer good enough for the First Lady, but also not wanting to confront her emotions. "I like to flirt with him."

Mrs. Bartlet looked like she was going to cry. "Oh my God, this is so cute. I'm sorry, it's just that you two are such beautiful looking people and so…so passionate that if you got together…oh my…steamy, sweaty-,"

"Wow would you look at the time!" Ainsley shouted as she stood up from the couch feeling a little more than just flushed. "I apologize ma'am but I've got to get going, Mr. Babish will be in contact about the rest of your AMA proposal." Mrs. Bartlet pursed her lips and shook Ainsley's hand, bidding her goodbye and relinquishing her from that torrid interrogation.

Before Ainsley fully stepped out of the residence foyer, she looked back to the First Lady.

"Ma'am, your reliable and completely anonymous source wouldn't happen to be Donna would it?"

Mrs. Bartlet looked back at her with utter strength and resolve.

"Oh, it was absolutely 100% Donna."

"Thank you ma'am."


	14. A Presidential Marriage

**A/N: Little bit of Jed/Abbey cuteness :P**

 **Later That Night**

There were not enough words in the English language that could describe the day that the President had had. Simply put, he was ready to settle into bed next to Abbey, drink a tall glass of milk, maybe a sugar cookie or two to go with it, and hope not to be awakened in the middle of the night. Oh who was he kidding, it was already the middle of the night.

Jed shut one of the many glass doors to the Oval Office, saluted the Marines as he walked by and strode towards the Residence. Just wanting to drop off a few things in the study Jed walked in and found to his surprise Abbey laying on one of the sofa's fully awake and reading. She hadn't heard him walk in yet.

He leaned down over the back of the sofa and kissed her lightly on the cheek before whispering in her ear.

"That book is about as thick as my ego," he said.

His wife and First Lady chuckled. "Glad you're finally coming around to that idea, my father had it in his head ever since I first introduced the two of you."

Jed moved to his desk and set down his briefcase, quickly organizing a few papers before he and Abbey were to head off to the bedroom. "And may God rest his oh-so judgmental soul."

The pair made their way from Jed's study across the foyer to the bedroom, where the President went into the bathroom to change clothes and the First Lady climbed onto her side of the large and somewhat lumpy mattress.

"Jed," Abbey shouted at him.

"Yes dear?" Jed shouted back from the bathroom.

"I learned something interesting today," she said loud enough so that he could hear.

"So did I." He shouted back. "Did you know that we spent 11 million dollars last fiscal year on figuring out how we could maneuver M1 Abram tanks through the streets of Berlin? I mean, Berlin? What is this 1942?"

"I didn't know that; why did we spend 11 million dollars on figuring out how to do that?" Abbey asked.

"I haven't the slightest clue," Jed said truthfully, then remembering a conversation he had with Secretary Stevens. "It has something to do with the width of streets around the capitol and how we would have to airlift-," He stopped abruptly and poked his head out of the bathroom to look at his wife, whose eyes were already waiting to meet his, like a snake laying a trap for its prey.

"You don't care about this at all, do you?" he asked.

"Not unless the German chancellor suddenly decides to invade Guam," she responded jokingly. Jed went back to brushing his teeth.

He retorted in between spits. "Yeah…well…that makes two of us." Jed finished and came out of the bathroom, making his way over to the thing he had been thinking about since he had woken up this morning, the bed. "What did you learn today?" he asked crawling into bed next to his wife.

Abbey shifted her body so she was leaning on her right arm and looking at him with a dead seriousness.

"If this is about that salsa dancer in Mexico…," he said half-jokingly, but mostly fearing his wife's wrath.

"Sam and Ainsley Hayes aren't dating," Abbey said simply.

Oh thank God. He wasn't in trouble. Wait…did she just say what he thought she said? He leaned up on his left arm to mimic her posture and stared back at her, now deadly serious as well.

"You're joking."

"I honestly wish I was," Abbey replied. "I heard it from Ainsley herself when she came up to the Residence earlier today."

Jed was appalled. "Did they break up?"

"No, no, they were never together Jed," Abbey clarified.

"But…what about what happened in Washington?" He asked.

"It didn't happen," his wife answered again. "I mean, it sort of did. They shared a bed, but she swears they didn't actually sleep together."

"My God, the resolve in that man…," Jed whispered looking down from his wife's eyes.

"I'm sorry?" His wife asked.

"Nothing dear," Jed replied quickly moving on to his next question. "And Miss Hayes told you all this herself?"

"Every word."

"So we were speaking two different languages…," Jed whispered to himself again, recounting the events from last weekend. Then looking back at his wife, he said "They should get together though right?"

There was no hesitation in Abbey's voice. "Oh absolutely."

"Well should we…do anything about that?" Jed asked. He did love Sam as a son, and had come to enjoy Ainsley Hayes's company over the past few months, he would even consider her a friend. Getting the two of them together might not be the worst idea, even if they lived on opposite sides of the street politically.

Abbey quickly shot him down. "No, not yet. We'll let them figure it out for now. If somebody had tried to get the two of us together before we realized our feelings I think I might have taken my father's advice and taken that year-long trip to Europe."

"Your father really didn't like me, did he?" Jed asked. Abbey kissed his forehead goodnight and touched his cheek lightly with her hand, patting him once before resting her head on her pillow.

"Not one bit."

Jed scoffed. "Well I sure showed him didn't I."

"Jed."

"Yes dear?"

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight dear."


	15. A World Apart

**A/N: Another chapter I'm pretty proud of. Please please please review and let me know if you liked it :)**

 **Moscow, Russia**

 **Local Time: 9:27 pm**

 **Washington D.C. Time: 2:27 pm**

You know, for a supposedly still communist influenced country run by a Dictator-like President whose elections are rigged and free-speech is well, not free, Russia wasn't all that bad. For a visit anyways.

Sam Seaborn had stepped off Air Force One nearly thirteen hours ago and he was still finding reasons to be impressed, small reasons, but reasons nonetheless. Russian architecture was beautiful for one thing, and anywhere you went, the bread was freshly baked and the polska freshly cooked. After his long day of assisting the President and CJ talk to the Russians about the ongoing situation in Kazakhstan, Sam was glad to be out of the Kremlin. That place gave him the creeps, not to mention they were kept under the watchful guise of at least two masked Spetsnaz officers wherever they went.

'Oh, you have to take a private phone call with Leo McGarry and you need to step outside a moment? Let Dimitri and Sven help you with that.'

It was cold this time of year in Moscow, almost too cold to be outside, but Sam had been dismissed for the night after the President's motorcade had returned to the Four Seasons, so he thought he might take a brisk walk. At the very least he could get some exercise in after sitting in those conference rooms all day. At least in Washington he got to walk from room to room, or go out into the Rose garden when he needed a breather. Not in Mother Russia, no. In Mother Russia, Spetsnaz takes walks for you.

Sam's cellphone suddenly rang as he strolled down the large plaza. He reached into his pocket and flipped it open without looking at the caller ID.

"Sam Seaborn," he answered holding the phone to his nearly frozen ear.

"Ainsley Hayes."

He smirked, glad she couldn't see him. "Are you mocking me?"

"That depends," Ainsley said sweetly, "do you like it?"

He almost laughed. Things had just been so…easy, with them recently. There wasn't any fear of what the other person might think. His friendship with Ainsley had changed him, it had changed the both of them. Sam glanced down at his watch.

"What's up?" He asked. "Anything going on back home I need to worry about?"

"Nope, just checking in," Ainsley replied. "Babish has me photo-copying every piece of legislation that has come out of the Senate Committee on Ethics this year. He thinks the White House should rewrite some of its code to adhere more to Congress's new language."

"Because I'm sure the President will want to hear just how ethical Congress is with midterm season approaching," Sam said sarcastically. "It'll get put on the backburner you know."

"Why do you think I'm sitting in the copy room talking to you?" Ainsley responded. After a momentary pause she asked, "How's Russia?"

Sam breathed in a gust of cold air. "Chilly," he answered. "But it's good to get out of the West Wing."

"Tell me about it," Ainsley said almost desperately. "How're the talks going?"

"You know I can't talk to you about it," he answered. "And even if I could I wouldn't because I'm pretty sure the KGB is monitoring my phone calls."

"Got you under their thumbs huh?"

Sam snorted. "More like their cold, steel-toed boot." He glanced behind him, almost instinctively at this point. There were a few people in the square, but not many, not like Times Square crowded. He couldn't deny it was a bit eerie. Sam looked ahead again. "In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if the two guys twenty yards behind me were undercover Spetsnaz."

"Well aren't you just a 21st century James Bond," Ainsley teased. "The Spy Who Loved Me."

Sam smiled at her words but didn't think anything else of it. Ainsley had spoken again before he could think of something witty to say.

"So how's the hotel?"

Sam grinned and bit his lip. It was his turn to switch on the charm now.

"It's okay, warm bed and a nice view. Nothing like the last one I stayed at though," he hinted, referring to their trip to Washington state. He swore he heard Ainsley giggle, and he imagined how her face must look right now, all pinched up and cute.

"Was your last hotel bed not warm enough for you Sam?" she asked sarcastically.

"Oh, it was plenty warm," he answered. "Maybe too warm…" He realized as soon as the last word left his mouth he had said it out loud and not in his mind like he had intended. Hopefully she wouldn't make anything of it.

"So where are you now?" Ainsley asked, sounding rushed all of a sudden.

Sam took a deep breath and watched his exhale dissipate into the cold Russian air.

"Red Square," he said doing a full 360-degree spin, taking in all the sights of the famous square. "I'm about fifty yards away from Saint Basil's Cathedral, it's lit up like a Christmas tree and to my right is the Kremlin, which on the other hand is darker than the deepest dungeons of Middle Earth, spare a few medieval lanterns."

There were a few seconds of silence as Sam waited to hear her voice over the line again. He had almost checked to see if their connection had been broken up when her voice returned to bless his ears.

"Tell me more Sam," she pleaded sweetly.

He smiled at her request and began to fulfil her wishes. "To my left is a long row of shops, restaurants, bakeries, oh my God Ainsley, the bread here is to die for. I'm telling you, I have a new respect for the Russian peasants of 1917, if I had to go a day of my life without this bread, I would advocate for the overthrow of the government too."

"Be careful," she quickly warned him, "I don't want the Spetsnaz breaking down your door tonight and shipping you off to a gulag in Siberia never to be heard from again. You owe me a loaf of that bread."

Sam sighed, taking another look at the magnificent cathedral in front of him. Just the sense of being alone in another foreign country where he felt that literately anything could happen at any moment gave him a new feeling, something he hadn't felt in a while actually. A strange sense of absolute freedom. It was ironic almost, and laughable at best, but that's how he felt. It was liberating.

"Ainsley," he said calmly. "It really is beautiful here."

"Don't you think about moving and changing occupations on me," she joked back at him. "I doubt the Russian President would take a liking to your attitude and obvious lack of, well…a Russian vocabulary."

"I wish you were here." It was funny. The words didn't shock him at all as they rolled off his tongue. He guessed that's what happens when one speaks the truth.

There wasn't a single second of hesitation in her response. "I wish I was too, Sam."

"You would love the view," he replied simply.

"I'm sure you would too, if I was there," Ainsley said playfully.

"Which view are we talking about now?" Sam asked while grinning ear to ear.

"Whichever one you want."

"Preferably the one without the KGB or Spetsnaz at our backs," he joked. "Speaking of which, I should get going, it's late here and I don't want Vladimir and Petrov getting too antsy and hauling me off to prison for the night."

"I wouldn't want that either," Ainsley responded kindly. "Goodnight Sam. See you in a couple of days."

"Goodnight Ainsley."

Sam waited for her to hang up and after a couple of seconds he heard the line click off. He put the cellphone back in his coat pocket and took one last look at the grand cathedral before turning around and heading back in the direction of the hotel, where a warm bed and pleasant dreams awaited him.


	16. A Night To Forget

**A/N: Alright this is a long one, but it's good. Things heat up, maybe a little more than they should ;) Spoiler: Drunk Ainsley! If you were to review one chapter out of all of them, I would hope it's this one! Thanks.**

 **Washington D.C.**

 **Patrick's Pub**

Ainsley had never been one for going out on the town and getting absolutely hammered with the intent of waking up the next morning and not remembering a damn thing, but tonight was different. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, she was different. Working at the White House had changed her, in more ways than one. The unbelievable amount of stress that came with her job was slowly taking its toll on her. So, after yet another fourteen-hour work day, when Toby, Charlie, Sam and CJ asked her to accompany them out for a drink, she had said yes without letting any doubts or hesitations enter her mind.

They had arrived at what Ainsley assumed was their usual joint just fifteen minutes ago, and yet CJ was already on her third drink whilst arguing with Charlie about whose responsibility it had been to write a memo to the President and leave it on his desk. Ainsley, sitting next to Sam and Toby, was quietly watching while occasionally sipping her own beer.

"Charlie, Mrs. Landingham told me that it was your-,"

"That may be CJ, but she told me the exact opposite thing half an hour later!" Charlie said interrupting CJ in the middle of her explanation.

"And I'm telling you that doesn't make any sense!" CJ nearly shouted back over the loudness of the bar. It was Friday night, and the pub was crawling with fed-up lobbyists, politicians, lawyers, and reporters alike.

Charlie shook his head and took a swig of his beer. CJ continued. "Why would I be the one to leave a memo for the President? I've never done that before."

"Because you're the voice of the White House when it comes to what the press should and shouldn't know," Charlie replied, a bit more calmly now. "And the contents of that memo very clearly fall under your job description, not mine."

CJ sent a shocked look over at Toby. "Toby you believe me right?"

Ainsley looked over at Toby as he too took a swig of his beer. "Don't look at me, the kid knows what he's talking about."

CJ let out a loud 'oh come on' in astonishment. Ainsley picked up her beer again and took a drink. She was going to need a lot more than this if she wanted to sleep in tomorrow. Just as CJ started to pick a fight with Toby, Sam leaned in closer to her. She caught his eyes with hers.

"You need another one of those?" He asked loudly while pointing to her almost empty bottle.

"I actually think I need something stronger," Ainsley replied.

Sam made a move to get up off his stool, but she quickly put a hand on his forearm and got up herself.

"I'll get it," she said and then motioning over to the rest of the table. "Hopefully they'll be done bickering when I get back."

Sam smiled slightly. "Yeah, I doubt it, but can you get me something while you're up?"

Ainsley glanced down at what Sam had been drinking. "Another Blue Ribbon?" she asked looking back up at him.

"Surprise me," he answered sweetly. She smiled and walked off towards the bar, making her way between groups of other bickering Washingtonians. She had to push past a few people, sliding her small frame in between fat old white men and their escorts as she went. Finally, she arrived at the large bar and made eye contact with the bartender, an older brown-haired woman, maybe in her mid-forties.

"What can I getcha?" the bartender asked, walking over to where Ainsley stood in between the barstools of two people.

"Two rum and cokes please, and make them doubles," Ainsley ordered. Sam would either hate her or love her for this.

"Iced?" The bartender asked.

"Please." The bartender went off to pick out an appropriate rum for their drinks and Ainsley waited at the counter for her to return. Not more than five seconds passed before she heard somebody come up behind her.

"You here alone sweetheart?"

Ainsley sighed and turned around. She had dealt with guys like this before. This one in particular was probably a college frat boy from Georgetown who by the stench, had already been here long before Ainsley arrived at work this morning. He was big, at least 220 pounds, all muscle of course, she could tell by the way his pecs were practically ripping through his tight t-shirt. He probably never wore anything above a medium. Ainsley remembered college guys from her time in school, she knew how to handle them.

"No," she replied firmly as the freakishly tall drunk stared down at her. "I'm just getting a few drinks and heading back to my table."

"I…I don't see anybody else here with ya," the guy answered, burping over the first word. God that was so repulsive. Does this guy actually think he appears attractive to any of the women in here?

"They're back at my table," Ainsley said looking around the guy's massive body back to where her friends sat. None of them were looking in her direction. Great.

The frat boy got closer, almost pressing her up against the bar and she could taste the alcohol on his breath as he spoke. "Why don't you come back to my table sweetheart? My friends and I can really show you a good time."

Okay, so now she was a little afraid. The guys she had dealt with in college had never been as big as this guy, and she had always been with girlfriends at all times, no matter where they were. Now she was alone and small. Ainsley let her emotions get the better of her.

"How about no, sweetheart," she mocked while staring back at this 'dude' angrily, "I'm having a good time without you and your posse so why don't you back off."

The drunk frat boy stared at her almost in confusion, as if he didn't understand that he had just been rejected. Then he took a step closer, and Ainsley had to lean against the bar just to avoid touching him.

"You'd love me baby," he whispered into her ear. She grew more and more uncomfortable and scared as he spoke. "Every girl I take home says they enjoyed the ride."

Ainsley almost threw up. God, men could be such animals. She tried to sound strong, but instead her threat sounded like a plea. "I'm not your baby and you should stop this, right now."

The frat boy backed off of her slightly, but not before sneaking a hand around her back and slapping her ass. Ainsley gasped and was about to call for help when the monster standing in front of her spoke again.

"You got a problem with me sweetheart? I like to play rough," he added, winking back at her as if that would suddenly win her over. Before she could formulate a response, she heard the sound of her rescuer from behind her assaulter.

"So do I, and I do have a problem with you, _sweetheart_."

The frat boy stepped away from Ainsley, not enough too free her completely, but enough so that she could see Sam standing there behind him. Yes, Ainsley thought to herself. Simply, yes.

"And who the fuck are you dude," the frat boy responded angrily.

"I'm the boyfriend, dude," Sam replied firmly, not taking his eyes off of the massive man in front of him. Ainsley felt butterflies in her stomach, she knew it was just a lie to get him away from her, but she couldn't help it. Sam had said it like he meant it, like he really was her boyfriend. Ainsley felt her legs begin to give out and would have fainted if not for the seriousness of the situation.

The brute had not replied yet, and Sam looked past him at Ainsley, holding out his hand.

"Come on Ainsley," Sam said, "you don't need to deal with this guy anymore." Ainsley held up her hand and reached for his, but the frat boy stepped in front of her again, cutting them off from one another.

"Your girlfriend's pretty cute, but she's dressed kinda slutty," the frat boy said nearly hissing at Sam. "I bet she'd let me take her back to my place for 100 bucks. We can do a switch, you look like you haven't had sex in a while, I'll hook you up with my bitch ex-girlfriend. She always did have a thing for wimps."

Sam was getting angry, Ainsley could see it on his face and she was betting 'Brutus' here did too. That was not a good thing. She had never known Sam to get in a fight, but he was unpredictable, and that's what scared her.

"Well I guess I know what she saw in you then," Sam replied plainly. If there had ever been a time to go 'oh shit', it was that time. Ainsley watched as the drunk frat bro swing a fist so fast at Sam's face she thought he was going to go down hard. He didn't.

Sam ducked under the swinging fist like it was nothing and because the drunk asshole had put so much force into it, he stumbled over a chair and went crashing down into the side of somebody's table, before landing with a hard thud on the floor of the bar. He didn't appear to be getting up anytime soon. Ainsley looked back up at Sam, who had re-extended his hand out to her, she took it in hers and stepped over the drunk's body as the bartender, who had seen the whole thing, called for the police from behind the bar.

Ainsley couldn't help but stare into her wonderful friend's eyes as he walked her back to the table.

"Boyfriend, huh?" she asked.

"First thing that came into my head," he responded simply. "Sorry if it made you uncomfortable."

"You've never made me feel anything but safe, Sam. Thank you."

Ainsley felt good saying that, it was the truth. Ever since that shooting, he had always made her feel safe, and she loved it. They approached the table and sat back down once again. Toby was the first to greet them.

"What happened to the drinks?" he asked.

"And what was that loud crash?" CJ inquired. Ainsley looked over at Sam who was chewing on a French fry calmly, having no intention of sharing what had just transpired at the bar, what he had just done for her. She wasn't that bashful, she wanted everyone to know how good of a man Sam Seaborn really was.

"Mr. Smooth over here just saved me from an aggressive, drunk college frat boy," Ainsley explained staring over at Sam who just shrugged his shoulders as if it were nothing.

"You didn't hit him did you?" CJ asked, possibly wondering about how they would spin an assault charge against the Deputy Communications Director.

"No, he didn't," Ainsley answered for him, again feeling like everyone should know about his good deed. "He did however perform the quickest dodge of a fist the size of his head that I have ever seen."

"Wow Superman, been practicing your moves in between staff meetings?" Toby asked sarcastically.

Ainsley watched Sam smirk but remain silent. How modest could this man be? She looked over at Toby and then back to Sam as she spoke. "Superman has nothing on him. Sam Seaborn is my new hero."

He gave her the 'I-can't-believe-you-just-said-that' stare and went back to sipping down the last few drops of his beer.

"Awww," CJ said, "Sam you deserve a key to the city."

"Maybe if we ask the President…," Charlie said jokingly.

Toby chuckled and then looked back to Sam. "You'll be able to open file cabinets across the city. Actually that might not be a bad idea, we could finally see what plays the Speaker has got in store for us next congressional session."

Sam chuckled quietly. Ainsley couldn't take her eyes off of him. When did he get so ruggedly handsome?

Charlie interrupted her thoughts and raised his bottle to the center of the table. "To Sam."

Everyone but Sam raised their drinks to the middle of the table. Ainsley winked at Sam, hoping to catch his eye, but he was looking down at his lap, hating every second of being the center of attention.

"To my hero," she said and the group of White House staffers clinked their bottles together. Ainsley knew from here on out, it was going to be a good night.

 **Two Hours and Thirty-Two Minutes Later**

Ainsley was drunk. Like…really, extremely, almost black out drunk. She never thought that this night, however shitty it had started, was going to end up being this fun. Ainsley hadn't felt this relaxed since…well…since ever, maybe. She was just about to ask Sam to get her another of…whatever she was drinking when he stood up from the table and slipped on his coat.

"Alright guys," he said, "I'm calling it a night."

Ainsley tried to get up off her stool but she moved to quickly for her legs to catch up to where her brain was and she tripped off the stool, crashing down onto the floor. She heard laughter as Sam bent down to pick her up. She whispered a groggy 'thank you' as he steadied her, keeping his hands at her waist as she turned around to face the table again.

"So am I," she said, "If I drink anymore I'm not going to member' where my apartment is."

"You can't drive Ainsley," CJ pointed out then averting her gaze to Sam. "You can take her home."

"Sam's drunk too…," Ainsley said as she let her head fall back on his chest. She felt herself falling asleep on the warmth of his jacket.

"I've had nothing but water for the past hour, I'll take you," he said to their friends. "If you can remember where you live."

"Give me a second…I'll figer it out…," Ainsley said slurring her words as she clung to his coat for support.

"Okay," he said chuckling. "Goodnight everybody." Ainsley heard a rumble of goodbyes from the table as Sam practically carried her out of the bar. She felt a flurry of cold air hit her as they walked into the parking lot and she pressed herself even closer into him. He didn't seem to mind. When they reached his car, he loaded her in his front passenger seat and leaned over her to buckle her in. Ainsley managed to hold her head up for long enough to get a good look at him. Oh boy did she want to kiss him. His lips were so close…maybe if she just leaned forward-

Sam clipped her buckle and pulled himself away from her, shutting the car door just as she had tried to lean in. She heard the driver's side door open and shut again as the car turned on and heat blasted her face.

"Ainsley, you need to tell me where you live now, okay?" he asked sweetly. He was such a sweet man…a good…sweet man.

She tried to keep her thoughts straight on the task at hand, but she didn't want to sleep in her bed tonight. No, drunk Ainsley had other ideas in her head.

"I don't remember…" she said softly, trying to keep her eyes open. "Just take me to your place…I will sleep on the couch…just need…sleep."

She heard him sigh and the car lurched forwards out of the parking lot. She drifted off only a few seconds later.

 **Twenty-three minutes later**

"Ainsley, wake up, Ainsley. C'mon you have to wake up now," Sam whispered across the center console to her as he parked in front of his apartment building. He watched her eyes slowly flicker to life.

"Are we home now?" she asked letting her eyelids close again.

Home…wow she was either completely wasted or completely delusional. But most likely both. Sam got out of his car, went around to the passenger side, leaned over and unbuckled his drunk friend, slowly lifting her out of his car. She stumbled on her feet, and he put her arm around his neck, carrying her like a wounded soldier up the steps of his apartment building.

Before they made it to the elevator, he felt her slipping from around his shoulder and caught her as she collapsed in the lobby. An older man walked by whom Sam had never seen before, but stopped upon catching a look at him trying to pick up the drunk woman.

"Miss, do you know this man?" The old man asked.

"I'm her friend, she just had a bit too much-,"

"He's my boyfriend…achually," Ainsley corrected as she nodded at the old man and winked back at Sam. He sighed again. He knew this was a bad idea.

Before the older man could move on, Sam asked him to hold the elevator for them, and he did. The three of them rode up in the elevator in silence to their respective floors. That was of course, until Ainsley started to speak.

"Did you know…," she said pausing mid-sentence to collect herself and look at the old man. "He saved me tonight. It was very… heroic."

"That's very nice," the old man replied as Sam mouthed him an apology for her behavior. The old man nodded back his understanding. The elevator doors dinged open and Sam and Ainsley stepped off, heading down the hallway for his apartment. Ainsley had somewhat learned to walk on her own again, although she was still clinging to his arm like a nervous child.

They reached his apartment door and he slipped his hand into his pocket searching desperately for the key as she continued to tug on his jacket sleeve.

"I never thought I would go home with you, Sam…," Ainsley said mumbling the last few words. He found the key and quickly opened his front door, walking inside his apartment bringing her reluctantly with him. So she was a flirty drunk. Yay. As if this wasn't already bad enough for him. She had practically spent the entire night touching his leg or slapping him playfully on the arm. To anybody else that might seem like child's play, but to him, it meant everything. And he hated himself for that.

Sam ignored her comment and led her to the bedroom. At this Ainsley giggled and what she followed it with almost obliterated every ounce of strength he had left in his body.

"Taking me to bed, are you?" she asked flirtatiously. He opened his bedroom door and practically pushed her into his room and down on his bed. She sat up and stared at him as he cleaned up a few things that were scattered about the room.

"You're going to sleep in here, I'll take the couch," Sam said electing to ignore her last comment. He threw a pair of dirty slacks in his laundry hamper and looked back over at her. She was absolutely gorgeous. Her long blonde hair flowing past her shoulders and down her back as her bust stretched against her tight blue sweater. God, if only.

"The bathroom is right over there," he said pointing to the side door in his bedroom. "If you need to throw up, please feel free to use the toilet and not my bedsheets."

"I'm…not drunk anymoreee…," she denied staring up at him with those big blue eyes. She rubbed the spot on his bed next to her and motioned with her finger for him to come closer.

He wasn't buying it. "Stop trying to look sexy," he commanded. "You're drunker than CJ on Christmas Eve."

She opened her mouth as if to convey that she was shocked. "You don't think I'm… sexy?"

Goddamnit. How is he supposed to answer that? "No, I mean, uh, no, not right now. I mean you are…," he tried to stay on track and didn't want to encourage her any longer. "I think you're tired and drunk off your ass, so right now you need to get some sleep, okay?"

She crossed her arms. "Sam…I'm not going to sleep…until you come over here."

Christ alive. Okay. You can do this Sam, he told himself. Just don't give in, she's wasted. This isn't the real Ainsley. He slowly walked over to where she sat on his bed and she stood up to meet him, their bodies only a few inches away from touching.

"I want to thank you Sam…for saving me…earlier…," she whispered up into his mouth. She took a step closer to him and stood up on her tiptoes to whisper into his ear. Sam went completely still.

"You already thanked me," he said quietly, making sure to keep his hands in his pockets and out of her reach.

"Not…not in the way I want too." She was breathing on his neck now, and even though he could smell the alcohol resonating off of her, he was more intoxicated by the scent of her. Christ it was good. He inhaled more, and she pressed her body completely up against his.

"I want to make my boyfriend feel good…I want to have sex with you…," she confessed.

Okay, it was now or never. If he indulged her like this tonight he would hate himself in the morning and she would probably hate him as well for taking advantage of her. He gathered up whatever resolve he had left and turned away from her, swiftly walking out of his bedroom and shutting the door on the way out. Sam sat down on his couch and rubbed his face in the palms of his hands. God, she was doing something to him, something he didn't like. Not now, why not in Washington? Why had she not leaned over to him then and seduced him? Lord knows he would have given in. He waited for five minutes and not a single sound had come from his bedroom. Good, he thought, she was finally asleep. Now he could relax and drift off himself, his only fear being what he would say to her in the morning.


	17. The Doctor Is In

**A/N: More Dr./Mrs. Bartlet for you. I couldn't resist.**

 **Washington D.C.**

 **White House Residence**

 **Two Days Later**

"YOU TOLD HIM WHAT?!"

Ainsley Hayes was currently sitting in the White House Residence for the second time in two weeks, but it wasn't because she had anything work related to discuss. She needed advice. She had thought about going to Donna, but Donna had proved in the past that she wasn't quite the most trustworthy when it came to Ainsley's secrets, so she moved on. She had pondered CJ for a while, but then decided that was a mistake as well, if anything CJ would try and solve Ainsley's problems for her, which she also didn't need. That's when Ainsley settled on the one woman she knew would have both the right advice to give and also the fortitude to keep secrets from the others.

"Good God Ainsley," the First Lady replied shockingly, "And he didn't take you right then and there?"

"No ma'am," she answered taking another sip of tea. So far she had told Mrs. Bartlet about pretty much everything that had occurred just two nights ago. Ainsley thought she wouldn't remember in the morning. Boy had she been wrong. She remembered everything, from Sam saving her from the drunk frat boy to him buckling her seat belt in his car, to her stupidly coming onto him when they got back to his apartment. She hated herself, well, her drunk self that is.

"Oh please dear call me Abbey," the First Lady said, "I think this conversation is a little more personal than professional yes?" Ainsley nodded her agreement. "Good, so, what happened after that?"

Ainsley took a deep breath. "He left me sitting alone in his bedroom and shut the door. I guess by that point I was too tired to keep trying and just fell asleep."

"Wow…," the First Lady replied. "And he didn't even…touch you?"

"No ma-, Abbey," Ainsley answered. The First Lady leaned back in her chair as if she was having trouble taking in all this information. A moment later she propped herself back up, a new question having come into her mind.

"Well what did he say in the morning?" she asked.

Ainsley went back to Saturday morning. She had woken up to the sound of his voice telling her it was time to get up. When she opened her eyes, she had seen his cleanly shaved face staring back at her, she loved it. She couldn't remember if she had smiled or not, but hoped he hadn't seen her do it.

"Well," Ainsley said clearing her throat, "We ate breakfast and he made me coffee after I told him my head was still pounding, and then he asked me if I remembered anything from last night."

"And?" The First Lady asked, almost begging with her to continue her story.

"And I lied," Ainsley said. "I didn't want to make him feel awkward and I was certainly already feeling embarrassed myself, so I lied and told him I didn't remember anything after we left the bar."

"Did he say anything to you about it?" Mrs. Bartlet asked.

"Just that I shouldn't freak out because we didn't do anything," Ainsley answered. "Which I already knew, but he didn't know that I knew so I pretended it made me feel better."

"Who knew Sam Seaborn could be such a gentleman," Mrs. Bartlet said winking back at Ainsley. "You on the other hand-,"

"I know, I know…," Ainsley said holding her face in her hands. "Can I lie down?"

"Of course honey," the First Lady responded, motioning for Ainsley to lay down on the sofa she was currently sitting in. "As long as you start paying me for all this therapy."

"Aren't you a medical doctor?" Ainsley asked rhetorically.

"Hey, I went to school for nine years to get that degree, and I'm First Lady," Mrs. Bartlet said sounding playfully defensive, "I can be whatever the hell I want to be, I'm pretty sure Jed scribbled it into the Constitution under powers of the Executive."

Ainsley laughed at her joke and felt a bit calmer now that she had the First Lady's trust and friendship.

"So, what are you going to do now?" Mrs. Bartlet asked.

Ainsley continued staring up at the high ceiling. "That's kind of what I came to you for. I need advice."

"Mhhm," Mrs. Bartlet murmured. "Well, you still feel all those things that you felt for him when you were drunk right?"

Ainsley sighed. "Yes…"

"So you still want to fu-,"

"Yes," Ainsley said quickly cutting off the First Lady. The wave of emotions came running over her again as it had when she was in his apartment two nights ago and she instantly felt her center contract with pleasure. "God yes. I want him so bad it hurts to look at him and not imagine…us." She sensed Mrs. Bartlet was about to say something, but she continued, wanting to completely rid herself of all these built-up emotions she had been hiding for so long. "He's my closest friend. When we're not together I find myself daydreaming about him. About him walking into my office, picking me up and kissing my lips so passionately that I can't control myself-,"

Ainsley breathed, remembering where she was. "I'm sorry Mrs. Bartlet, he just gets me so-,"

"Wound up," the First Lady answered. "And its Abbey, dear, please. For my sake."

Ainsley whispered a small apology and the First Lady moved on. "Well, as old-fashioned and cliché as this sounds, I think you need to talk to him."

"That's exactly what I was afraid you'd say," Ainsley replied.

Mrs. Bartlet sighed and Ainsley looked over at her. She spoke with a certain wisdom that couldn't be described as anything less than moving.

"I've been where you are honey. I know what it's like. What that fear does to your heart, how the smallest of touches or winks from a man can rip your mind in two, separating what you want to do and what you feel you should do." Mrs. Bartlet leaned in closer to Ainsley. "Let me tell you, sometimes, what you want to do and what you should do, are the exact same thing. And sometimes, with enough blind luck and enough sheer will, that thing that you do, creates an even bigger, more beautiful thing."

Mrs. Bartlet paused and Ainsley took it as a sign to ask a question that she didn't even know had been rampaging inside of her for months on end.

"Whats the thing?"

Abbey smiled. "Love."


	18. Dinner For Two

**A/N: This one's a long one, but completely necessary to understanding the next few chapters, so buckle up.**

 **Washington D.C.**

 **The West Wing**

So maybe it had been two weeks since her conversation with the First Lady. Maybe Ainsley hadn't quite gotten around to 'talking' with Sam Seaborn. And maybe she sort of hated the fact that she couldn't stay away from him. Maybe she was reaching a tipping point, and maybe, just maybe, she had gathered enough courage to take a first small step.

Who was she kidding, she thought to herself as she made her way to Sam's office, they had already taken steps, big ones. Steps that couples usually didn't take until the third or fourth date. She went over the checklist in her head.

Cornered him in his office and told him she wanted to kiss him. Yep.

Flirted with him on Air Force One. That's a yes.

Called him 'babe' on multiple occasions. Sadly, yeah.

Kissed his cheek? Oh God…yes.

Shared a bed with him? Yeah, that too.

Held his hand, sat on his lap, hugged him tightly. Absolutely yes.

Missed him while he was in a foreign country. So much.

Got drunk, proposed that he take her home. Yeah…of that part she was ashamed.

While still drunk, proposed that he have sex with her. Yes. Though she wished she hadn't.

But the one thing she hadn't done, the one simple thing she hadn't ever thought to do, possibly the most basic human interaction that had somehow skipped her mind in all her time speaking with Samuel Seaborn, was ask the man out on a date.

Ainsley arrived at her destination. She took a deep breath before opening the door to his office. Okay, she told herself, you can do this, it's just Sam…he has to say yes, right? No, not right, not if he doesn't like her like she likes him. Oh God…okay, here it goes. Ainsley turned the doorknob and strutted into his office, stopping just a few feet in front of his desk. He looked up at her as she walked in.

"Hey, what's up?" he asked simply.

She felt her heart nearly beating out of her chest.

"Do you want to take me to dinner?"

She held her breath and waited for his response. He was simply staring back at her as if she hadn't said anything at all.

"I'm sorry?" he said in return.

Her heart fluttered as he made her say it again. This time she tried asking a different way. Maybe a way he would appreciate.

"I want you to take me to dinner, tonight."

"That doesn't sound like a request," he said simply.

"It really isn't," she said, trying not to sound too controlling and as flirty as possible. She really didn't want him to say no. She couldn't handle a no. "So what do you say?"

"Okay," he answered staring up at her with those beautiful, passionate eyes.

Ainsley breathed for what seemed like the first time in weeks. "Okay…call for me when you're ready to go." She turned to leave.

"Ainsley," he said hurriedly trying to catch her before she disappeared.

She turned around again to face him. "Yes?"

"This dinner…it's not a date, is it?" he asked. He almost sounded…hopeful.

Oh God. She had gone too far. How idiotic could she be? Of course he didn't want to go out with her…shit.

"Um, no," she mumbled trying not to sound too disappointed. "It doesn't have to be."

"But that was your intention?" he asked again. She nodded her head in approval yet feeling ashamed she had even thought it was possible that he could like her as much as she liked him. They were friends, just friends, at least, according to him they were.

"Then it is," he answered surprising her.

Ainsley perked her head up and smiled again. "Okay," she answered, "it's a date."

"Okay," he repeated. She loved that. "I'll see you later tonight then." He winked and she almost died.

"Tonight," she repeated and walked out of his office. Maybe they were more than just friends.

 **Washington D.C.**

 **Later That Night**

When Ainsley had waltzed into his office earlier in the day that last thing he had ever expected her to say was the words that were now burned into his brain. He had almost fallen over backwards in his chair when she had asked him. Even though, as he told her, it wasn't really a request. Not that any of that mattered. How they got here almost seemed irrelevant, the only thing that kept circling throughout his mind the entire day had been that now they were finally somewhere.

Sam and Ainsley followed the waiter to their private table in the corner of the fancy restaurant. Sam had pulled out all the stops for this one. This date was something he desperately needed not to screw up.

Sam pulled out her chair for her, she smiled warmly at him and his heart continued slowly melting. Her smile could do so much to him and she had no idea…He tried to distract himself by turning his attention to the young waiter to hear the night's specials. Still though, his mind only wanted to be focused on her.

Sneaking a glance at her while she was perusing the wine menu and he was still pretending to listen to the waiter, he tried to keep his jaw from falling completely open. Even though he had seen her walk out of her apartment when he had picked her up, he didn't fully take in her beauty until now. And beautiful she was.

The usually conservatively (no pun intended) dressed White House Counsel was looking…well, stunning. She had adorned a sparkly red dress that showed just the right amount of chest without looking too flashy. Along with this she wore bright red lipstick, complimentary to the dress. Her beautiful blue eyes glimmered in the restaurant light with the thin layer of eye-makeup she had put on. She wore silver earrings, small crescent moons to be exact, and boy oh boy did they make her shine.

The waiter must've left because Sam was shaken out of his trance by Ainsley's voice.

"Do you want a look at the wine menu?" She asked holding it out to him, the table they sat at was small, their bodies only separated by a foot and a half at most. "They have a good selection here, I'm impressed."

Sam held out his hand in refusal of the menu. She set it down to her right. He remembered how to form sentences again. "I know it's cheap, but the house wine here is to die for," he answered.

Her eyes pierced his, driving little stakes of ecstasy through his heart. She scooted her chair in a bit and took a look around the restaurant. "Taken more than a few women here before have we?" she asked, sounding a tad bit jealous.

There's only one that matters, he wanted to say, but no. For now, he would remain relaxed. "And a few Congressmen," he joked back to her.

She smiled, although he sensed she was somewhat displeased with his answer. Shit.

"Any of them Republicans?" she asked.

"Only the ones that don't hate my guts," he answered unable to stop himself from smiling back at her.

The waiter arrived to take their drink orders, at which Sam quickly asked for the house wine, as did Ainsley, though he told her she didn't have to be stingy and she could order whatever she wanted.

"Please Sam," she said, "I half-expected you to take me to General Ming's Chinese for dinner, the least I could do is put a little less of a dent in your government salary."

Sam chuckled and looked back up to the waiter. "We'll take the two house wines then." The waiter nodded and walked away, leaving the pair alone once again.

"For your information, I can happily afford this place," Sam said teasingly back at his companion.

"I know," she replied, "I'm the one that can't."

He leaned back in his chair. "So what, you're not paying for tonight."

"Oh, don't even go there with me Sam," she said, warningly raising a finger at him. "This was my idea, I asked you to dinner, so in all reality, I should be the one paying for everything instead of splitting it."

"Why won't you just let me pay for you?" He asked, now annoyed. He wanted to treat her, to spend money on her, to show her he didn't care about salary or how much it cost to make her happy. "Where's the traditional southern woman that works with me hiding tonight?"

She scoffed playfully and gave him the 'you-are-so-wrong' stare. He secretly loved that stare.

"No matter how much of a traditionalist you think I am, you still have a lot to learn about me Sam Seaborn," she said as if she was egging him on for a fight. "I asked you out tonight and therefore, being the responsible and independent woman that my mother raised me to be, I'm going to pay for at least half of this dinner whether you like it or not."

He wasn't happy about it, but he knew arguing with her would do no good. Especially dressed like this, he didn't even think he could formulate a proper rebuttal with her sitting across the table from him in that outfit.

"See something you like Sam?" she asked loudly, interrupting his thoughts. He realized he had been staring at her chest again and quickly jerked his eyes back up to meet hers. Extremely embarrassed, he said the first thing that came out of his mouth.

"No, uh- you're just, I like…you're really pretty," he said stammering over almost every word. Sadly, his mind had failed him again and his wit had abandoned him on a one-way trip to Neverland.

All was not lost however, he watched her look down into her lap as her cheeks turned the same shade of red as her dress. So maybe that wasn't as bad as it could have been. Oh who was he kidding…you're really pretty? He sounded like a fifth grader telling his crush that he liked her for the first time, not like the well-spoken, Princeton educated, White House Deputy Communications Director that he was.

"You're not to bad yourself," she responded a few seconds later, looking back up at him. The red had retreated from her face. "It's no wonder Ginger ogles at you."

Sam brushed her comment off, trying to hold on to whatever gentleman-like quality he still had left. "Ginger doesn't ogle at me, that's ridiculous."

"Oh please Sam," she responded an instant later, "That girl has been after your heart since the day you became Deputy, and it's not just her who lusts after you. Most of the bullpen thinks Sam Seaborn is the hottest Democrat in all of Washington. Even the men," Ainsley said winking at him humorously.

"Great," Sam said plainly, "so I've got a staff full of sex-driven assistants is that it?"

Ainsley laughed as the waiter returned with their wines. After the young man had left to process their food orders, Sam held his glass up in the middle of the table, just below her face so he could watch her.

She mimicked his motion, holding her own glass up to his, but keeping them separated for now.

"And what are we toasting to tonight? Not you again, I hope, I think I've fed your ego enough for the next few weeks," Ainsley joked playfully.

Us, he wanted to say. To us. To what we are, what we have been, what we could be.

"Tonight," he said instead. "To a wonderful time."

She smiled and clinked her glass against his. "To tonight."

Nearly fifty minutes later, the pair had finished their respective entrees and were still chatting away, questioning each other like they were on opposite sides of a congressional hearing.

"Okay," Sam said firmly as he held his hands together on the table and sat upright in his seat, "I have to know, the education bill we passed last month, why were you so adamantly against it?"

She sighed, but not in an annoyed way, almost in a 'I'm-looking-forward-to-proving-you-wrong' way.

"It broadens education into this nation-wide battle shoving tens of millions of dollars into programs that won't work effectively in schools that have already received federal funding in the past." Sam was about to open his mouth to counter her argument, but she put a finger on his lips to stop him, and it worked. Her skin touching his mouth stopped every single thought that had been running through his head. If she had done this on Capitol Beat there was no way he would have stood a fighting chance. She continued.

"Sam, you of all people should understand that the world, and our country in particular is not a one size fits all sort of glove." She removed her finger from his lips, but was still leaned in close enough across the table that her perfume had him subdued. "We cannot possibly expect that the same public schools in Oakland or Compton or Brooklyn be held to the same standards as ones in Malibu or Syracuse, it won't happen. The kids in Brooklyn won't meet those standards, and if we lower standards in Syracuse to match those in Brooklyn what are we telling our children? That sometimes it's okay to do a little bit worse as long as we're keeping on par with the national average and letting the less fortunate kids catch up? No, we should be encouraging the kids in Syracuse to excel beyond their standards, to push the boundaries, to work harder, to take those tests because they already have a head start on the kids in Brooklyn. I'm not saying it's fair or just, and don't think I'm in any way suggesting that we should just leave the Comptons and the Oaklands in the dust. We should be doing the exact same thing in those schools too but they should be getting way more federal assistance than the kids in upstate New York whose parents are already making 200K a year! Sam," Ainsley breathed staring back at him with such a raw passion in her eyes Sam couldn't help but fall into them. "Education in this country isn't one big war that we can expect to win by simply dropping a nuke on the enemy's headquarters. There are thousands of battles out there waiting to be fought on the ground, on the state and local levels. I agree we need to send the troops in, but don't send them in without first collecting the proper intelligence."

She took a deep breath and Sam realized he hadn't taken a breath himself since she had started. Wow.

"Sam," Ainsley said simply, taking another sip of her wine. "You're staring again."

He couldn't help it. Wow.

"I think…," he started, trying to collect the right words. "I think you've just changed my mind Ainsley Hayes."

She laughed and snorted, which made him laugh, and pretty soon the two of them were busting up uncontrollably as other patrons in the restaurant started to turn their heads. After a good twenty seconds of the hardest laughter Sam had experienced in a long time, he wiped his eyes with his cloth napkin and looked back over at his date who was dabbing her own eyes as well. She had one of her hands out on the table in front of her and he reached for it, covering it with his lightly and nervously. She gazed back up at him as he did. He was always a softie for those eyes.

"Don't tell CJ this, but you might be the most intellectual woman I know."

Ainsley looked like she was about to cry, but that was probably from the laughing fit they had just gotten through. She didn't slip her hand out from underneath his, instead, she curled her hand around and intertwined her fingers in his, cupping his hand with hers. Her hands were soft, just like he remembered.

"Sam, that is the sweetest, most sincere thing anybody has ever said to me."

He smiled warmly back at her. "What can I say? You make me this way."

She grinned wider than he had ever seen her grin before. Sam felt as if everything was right in the world.

His pager suddenly chimed and before he could pull it out of his coat pocket, his cellphone rang and Sam quickly pulled that device out instead. He apologized to Ainsley for the interruption and walked into the kitchen which was just a short distance from their table answering the call the second he stepped in. The smell of freshly chopped garlic overwhelmed his senses.

"Sam Seabo-,"

"Sam, it's Josh, you need to come in, right now," Josh said firmly interrupting Sam before he could fully answer. Sam could tell it was serious from his friend's tone of voice.

Sam frowned. "What's going on?"

"Aren't you watching the news?" Josh asked suddenly perplexed.

"No, I'm out with-,"

"Christ, Sam…," Josh whispered. Okay, Sam was scared now.

"Josh, tell me what's going on."

The longest silence of Sam's life took place in those few seconds. When Josh's voice came back over the phone speaker, it was as if the sky had fallen on the ground and the world had shattered into a million tiny pieces.

"We've been attacked. Los Angeles was hit, Sam."

Sam didn't need to waste time on the specifics right now, not when his duty to his President demanded his presence back at the White House.

"I'll be there in fifteen minutes." He shut the cell phone and took a deep breath, letting the chaos of the restaurant kitchen consume him as he stood frozen to the spot. Then, when he had gathered the strength to fight whatever this was, this unknown anger, this unstoppable rage, Sam walked back out of the kitchen. He stopped a couple of feet short of his and Ainsley's table, where she sat completely blind to the pain that was about to rip through the hearts of every American across the country. How could he tell her? How could he do this to her, after promising the pain away…How could he ever live to protect her if he couldn't keep the suffering at bay?

She took notice of him and for a split second smiled before fully reading the look on his face. Her beautiful smile faded into a look of concern. She slowly stood up from their candlelit dinner table and walked over to where he stood. Sam dropped his cellphone on the floor of the restaurant. She took his hands in hers, staring up into his eyes as she spoke. Sam didn't hear her. He simply yet desperately searched for the light in her eyes. He began to cry. It was nowhere to be found.


	19. Matthew 5:9

**A/N: This chapter, really a collection of shorter chapters, is one of the hardest things I've ever written in my life. Especially after all the seemingly needless violence that has persisted in the United States and around the world. Obviously, this is where the AU comes into play. To use a quote to describe this chapter I would have to go with the one down below.**

 _"It's gonna get bad before it gets better." Josh Lyman_

 **A/N (cont.): This chapter mostly focuses on Sam's personal reactions towards the attack, as well as reactions from other staffers and as such isn't very Sam/Ainsley centric. But I promise the next few chapters will make up for that, heavily.**

 **Washington D.C.**

 **The West Wing**

 **+56 Minutes since the first bomb**

Sam stood outside the Oval Office, his feet jittering while he rocked back and forth on his heels. He felt…he didn't know what he felt. There was no feeling in the entire world that could be compared to how he felt since he received that phone call from Josh nearly an hour ago. The phone call that had ended such a perfect night and twisted it into a dark abyss full of nothing but despair and anger. The only thing that gave him comfort was the fact that he knew his friends felt it too.

Josh, Sam, Toby, CJ and Will stood outside the Oval waiting for the go ahead to see the President. It was the first time since the event that senior staff were all in one place, having been torn away from the work they had so furiously tried to accomplish.

"I can't believe this is happening…," CJ said suddenly in the quiet room as all other staffers lifted their heads slightly to hear what she had to say. Sam could see that her makeup had stained on her cheeks and she had tried her best to wash it off, but the tears had prevented that.

"Well, we better believe it, because it did happen, and now we have a job to do," Toby said strictly. "The President needs us to do our goddamn jobs tonight."

"And that's what we're gonna do, Toby," Josh said almost angrily at the man. "But this…thing is taking its toll on all of us, just relax for a second and breath."

Alright, now Sam was angry. He looked over at Josh, who had never looked more disheveled in his entire life. "Just relax?" Sam asked loudly. Josh looked back at him. Sam scoffed. "That's your fucking advice Josh? Just relax, it'll be okay? Take a breath?"

"He's right," Will said plainly from the corner of the room. Sam turned to glare at the younger man. He took a few steps towards Will and Josh quickly forced himself between the two frustrated men.

"Sam, you need to calm-,"

Sam raised his hands quickly and shoved Josh backwards into Will, almost knocking him over.

CJ yelled a threatening 'hey!' and Toby was in Sam's face in a second. Sam was fuming steam out of his ears, he couldn't believe Josh could be so stupid, and that Will was naïve enough to agree with him.

Toby tried to say something, but Sam was already shouting over him.

"How could you say something like that at a time like this?!" Sam yelled over Toby's shoulder at Josh. "How could you be so annoyingly nonchalant?! Just breathe? What kind of cliché horseshit is that Josh, huh? Nobody's breathing right now! Not a single goddamn person in this country whose awake right now is breathing! I haven't taken a single breath since you called me! We of all people right now should be the ones whose turn it is to not relax, to not breath! We should all be holding our breath for the people who can't!"

Sam's chest was heaving and even though he could feel air rising in and out of his lungs than quite possibly faster than ever before, he wasn't breathing. A dead silence hung in the room for about six seconds before Sam stepped back a few paces from Toby and leaned on Mrs. Landingham's desk, trying to make sense of whatever he could at this point.

Sam closed his eyes and heard a number of footsteps behind him. Then, softly, a hand on his right shoulder. It was CJ.

"Sam, I need you to be strong for me," she whispered. "And strong for the President and strong for this country. Getting angry at your friends isn't going to help you do that." Sam felt a small tear form under his left eye and it fell from his cheek onto Mrs. Landingham's desk, creating a tiny droplet of sorrow.

"I know you think that rage inside of you is the only thing that's keeping you going," she whispered, "but it's not. Don't rely on the pain, Sam. No matter how many times it knocks on your heart, don't let it in."

Just as soon as CJ had finished speaking, the door to the Oval opened and out walked a parade of six or seven men and women, in full dress uniform. Leo's voice from the office beckoned Sam and the others in and they quickly shuffled through the door.

Upon entering, Sam noticed one thing immediately. Josh must have as well.

"Where's the President?" Josh asked confusingly as the six senior staff stood in the center of the room.

"In the bunker," Leo answered as he moved from behind the President's desk to meet them. "I am assuming none of you have been briefed on where we stand right now." They all shook their heads no in response and Leo sighed before taking a seat in one the chairs, motioning for the other five staffers to sit down as well. Everyone did but Sam, he couldn't sit down…he couldn't show weakness. Leo shot him a look, but Sam was too confident, too arrogant. He stayed standing opposite of Leo.

"Approximately," Leo looked down at his watch and then back up at the group, "58 minutes ago, a dirty bomb the size of a suitcase exploded in the vicinity of Terminal C at Los Angeles International Airport. We're still getting updated information from the Pentagon and National Guard on casualties." Leo took another deep breath. His next few words came out weak. "Timestamps on the airport security cameras show that just fifty-three seconds after the first bomb went off, a second was detonated in front of the American Airlines terminal. The tape shows a FlyMyWay Bus pulling up to the curb, and then exploding two seconds later." Leo cleared his throat. "There is reason to believe that there were at least thirty people on that bus, and another fifty or so near the platform."

Hearing his mentor and his friend say it somehow made it that much worse, Sam couldn't take it anymore. He collapsed on one of the sofas next to Josh and buried his face in his hands. He knew the worst was yet to come, he had seen it on the news, though the reporting had been sketchy at best. Now they were about to know everything that Leo knew, and that scared him.

"The bombs tore through the terminals, and collapsed a large section of roof. The National Guard is currently trying to find a way through the debris…they fear that there are still people trapped inside the terminal, under the rubble." Leo paused as if he was waiting for questions. Sam knew his team didn't have any, they were ready for orders. Leo continued.

"As I'm sure you have seen on the news…approximately twelve minutes after the second bomb was detonated, two black unmarked SUV's arrived outside Union Station, at least eight masked men disembarked, shot the four LAPD officers standing guard outside, and waltzed inside unabated."

Sam could tell Leo was holding back tears, as he was doing himself. CJ couldn't, neither could Will. He watched the tears streak down both their faces as Leo continued to speak.

"They were armed with automatic assault style weaponry, and they did not intend on taking hostages. The situation was resolved sixteen minutes later, when a legion of FBI tactical squads, local SWAT teams and a bomb unit from the National Guard corned the masked assailants inside Pete's Bakery." Leo looked right over at Sam and Josh, knowing they would most want to hear what he said next.

"We filled the place with lead," Leo said angrily, "we shot them to death." Sam felt the smallest sense of relief, though he knew there was still something Leo was not telling them.

"How many dead…Leo, how many did they kill?" Sam asked as Josh put his arm around Sam's shoulder.

"Reports are still unconfirmed, the Pentagon-,"

"Goddamnit Leo!" Toby said standing up quickly and throwing his glasses on the floor. "How many?!"

Leo let his head fall down into his lap as if in shame. A few seconds of worthless time went by before he raised his head again to answer Toby.

"The first estimation from the National Guard coming out of the airport is one-hundred and thirty. But they've barely begun digging through the rubble," Leo sighed. Sam felt Josh's arm leave his shoulder as he too stood up and swung a fist angrily in the air. "Fuck!" Sam looked over at CJ, who was weeping uncontrollably in Will's arms and back to Toby who had his hand on his forehead and looked like he might have a stroke. Finally, Sam stared back to his boss. His friend.

"Leo…," Sam mumbled. "How many at Union Station?"

It seemed like an eternity before Leo answered, but when he did, Sam wished he hadn't asked.

"I don't know…," Leo said unwaveringly staring back into Sam's eyes. "They're still counting the bodies."

 **Washington D.C.**

 **The West Wing**

 **+Eleven hours and nineteen minutes**

The eighth National Guard body count report had just come through; Ginger was the one who brought it in to Sam's office. Just like the previous seven, Sam took a deep breath and said a small prayer before opening the file.

It was worse than he had expected, also like the previous seven reports. Sam didn't think it could get any worse. The situation was over, the bombs had gone off almost half-a-day ago and the shooters at Union Station had been executed shortly thereafter. The threat was gone, but the body count was still rising.

The tally at both terminals at Los Angeles International now read one hundred and seventy-three dead, one hundred and twenty-seven injured, thirty-eight in critical condition at numerous hospitals across LA, and of those thirty-eight, eighteen were not expected to pull through. If their expectations were right, that would put the dead at one hundred and ninety-one souls. One hundred and ninety-one Americans.

Union Station had been easier to gain access to by medical personnel, and as a result, the National Guard, as well as the Red Cross were now confirming that the final tally for those murdered by the eight masked terrorists was one hundred and forty-three. One hundred and forty-three people had been slaughtered by eight people with guns and grenades. And the NRA says an AR-15 isn't a weapon of mass destruction. Sam had done the math in his head. If each homicidal terrorist maniac had killed an equal number of Americans as his buddy, they would have each killed seventeen innocent people. If that wasn't an example of mass destruction, well then Sam didn't know what the fuck was.

There had been less injured at Union Station than at LAX, but only because the shooters only shot at what they knew they could kill. Sam had seen a clip of a security camera feed on CNN. Not only did the terrorists execute the wounded, they also made sure the dead were actually dead. This included at one point, a terrorist throwing a grenade into a group of already dead people because one woman's arm was still flinching. Flinching.

Put together, the bombs at LAX and the massacre at Union Station amassed three hundred and thirty-four bodies and an estimated one hundred and seventy-seven injured. Sam cried in his office alone for nearly twenty minutes.

The President had taken every step necessary to prevent a further attack and to capture the bombers. Although it was still early in the joint investigation by the FBI, CIA, and Homeland Security, they had determined that the attacks were coordinated, but that the eight men were likely not personally responsible for detonating the bombs at LAX. This led the President to shut down all ports and suspend all international flights until the suspects could be caught. Toby had also stopped by earlier to inform him that Leo said the Joint Chiefs had recommended going to DEFCON 3. The President had obliged them, ordering the entire Pacific Fleet of the US Navy to stand guard on the Western seaboard. CNN streamed live footage of cruisers and destroyers alike positioning themselves just a couple of miles off the coast. They made the sandy shores of Huntington Beach look like a war zone.

The only piece of the puzzle still missing was who. After all, Sam knew why. It was simply that they (Islamic extremists) hated western culture and democracy. They hated the United States. They wanted to impose sharia law across the globe, and yet, here is the good ol' USA, letting women drive, vote, become elected officials, marry whomever they wish regardless of skin color or religion, divorce their husbands, and on occasion show enough skin that would make their Ayatollah's skin crawl. Sam knew the why. Now he needed to know who, yet no terrorist organization had claimed responsibility.

It was almost distressing. But Sam had found his strength again and nobody could take that away. Not after the events of the last eleven hours. Not after this.

 **Washington D.C.**

 **The West Wing**

 **+Fourteen Hours**

Like many of his coworkers, Sam had worked tirelessly throughout the night. It was now almost nine in the morning, six am on the west coast and people would be getting up and going to work soon. Rush hour on the 405 would have started an hour ago and would last until at least 9:30 local time. By then, it would be almost 1 pm in D.C, but Sam hadn't kept track of the time since last night. He'd been running on pure adrenaline since that phone call had interrupted his dinner with Ainsley. And he intended to keep running, to keep pursuing, to keep going, despite the monstrosities that had taken place. He had written something similar into the President's address to the nation late last night, which would be rebroadcast this morning. Sam only wished it was good enough to give people the hope that he lacked.

It wasn't just hard to write something that Sam didn't feel himself, it was extremely agonizing. To put on a strong face in the glares of a distraught nation and say 'Hey, we got knocked down, but now we've got to get back up, plant our feet firmly and take our swing.' Of course, with the help of Toby and Will, along with the President's edits, what Sam had originally written turned out a little more poetic than that.

The first time Sam had seen the President was at two am, when he had walked out of the situation room and into Sam's office. Without hesitation, the President had approached him at his desk and took Sam in a warm embrace, putting both his hands on the back of Sam's neck and whispering in his ear.

'Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called the children of God.' He had said. It nearly made Sam break down and cry again, and he wasn't even religious. The President had told him to go home, but that was seven hours ago. Sam couldn't go home. His work wasn't done until the President's was, and he was sure that man wouldn't have slept a wink. So neither would he.

 **Washington D.C.**

 **The West Wing**

 **+Nineteen Hours**

Ainsley Hayes had not seen Samuel Seaborn since they parted ways after arriving at the White House following dinner the previous night. They had both been so caught up in the rush of everything that had happened they hadn't even taken time to speak to each other about anything. Ainsley had a million and a half things to do after the attack, as Sam probably had as well, so she hadn't spoken to him, let alone even begin to think about him since they had left the restaurant. But now, as she wandered the halls near the bullpen, she couldn't help herself. She needed to be comforted again.

Ainsley didn't even knock on his office door, she just turned the handle and walked in. His head was down on his desk, hiding his face from her view, but his hair was completely scruffy. She walked lightly on her toes to his side, not wanting to wake him, just wanting to see him.

He reeked of body odor and energy drinks. Ainsley covered her nose and pushed a strand of hair away behind his ear. At this, Sam jumped in his chair and was immediately awake looking around for signs of danger.

"Sorry," Ainsley said as his eyes came to rest on her standing in front of him.

"What're you doing here?" he asked groggily.

"I was going to ask you the same thing Sam," she replied, motioning to his appearance. "You haven't gone home yet have you?"

He shrugged her off and began to scavenge through a multitude of files that sat on his desk. "I'm fine."

"You reek of old sweat and gym socks," Ainsley said plainly. "A shower and a change of clothes is what you need."

"Ainsley," Sam almost moaned, "I'm fine, the President needs me to finish researching-,"

She put her right hand on his shoulder and he immediately stopped shuffling through the papers. "Sam," she said softly, "The President has well over a hundred people working for him in the West Wing right now, you've done enough work. You need to go home."

Sam attempted to stand up and move past her, but his legs gave out on him and he went quickly crashing down to the floor as Ainsley tried her best to catch him. Instead, he tripped over her foot and they both fell into a stack of cardboard boxes behind his desk. Ainsley quickly stood up and brushed herself off. Looking down, she saw Sam lying there, not at all trying to stand back up. His expression told her something was off.

She knelt down next to him. "Sam?"

"I…I think somethings wrong Ainsley…," he mumbled back to her. "I can't…can't feel my legs…,"

Ainsley immediately jumped up and opened the office door, shouting out into the bullpen.

"Somebody call 911 right now! And see if we have a doctor on site!" Ainsley saw Ginger scramble for a phone as the other assistants dropped what they were doing and began running around like headless chickens. She went back to kneel by Sam, whose eyes were fading.

She slapped his cheek. "Sam, Sam stay awake Sam, you need to stay with me okay, we're getting help."

"Ainsl…," he murmured not able to finish her name, "Can't…see you…,"

"I'm here Sam," she pleaded with him, "I'm right here." She picked up his hands and held them in hers, squeezing onto him, hoping he wouldn't fade away. Her hopes were unreasonable.

"Stay…," he croaked out, "stay…Ainsley…. stay…,"

Ainsley was able to grab the sides of his body and lay him across her lap, his head balancing on her knee while she kept a firm grip on one of his hands.

"I'm right here," she whispered down to him. "I'm right here, stay awake Sam, help will be here soon, don't leave me now."

She knew it was a lost cause. She had watched the life drain from his usually vibrant blue eyes.

"Never…leave…you," he mumbled as his head rolled into her stomach and the rest of his body went limp in her arms. A single tear dropped from her eye onto his cheek and she tried to remain calm. She needed to be strong for the both of them right now and there was one thought in the back of her mind that told her what she needed to do. Without hesitation, Ainsley lowered her mouth down to his lips and planted hers softly and gently on his, holding them there for a few seconds as he lay unconscious in her lap. His lips were cold and icy, like hail or sleet, but to her, they were everything. He was everything, yet here they lay, slowly slipping away from one another into a void of unknown depth.


	20. Waking Up

**A/N: Back to that Sam/Ainsley goodness! Also a bit of CJ because who doesn't like CJ? Enjoy :)**

 **Washington D.C.**

 **George Washington University Hospital**

 **+Twenty-Four Hours**

Air. Sam felt air flowing through his lungs and out of his nostrils. He instinctively inhaled again, allowing himself to breathe once more. The next thing he remembered was Ainsley's voice. Then, upon remembering her, Sam realized where he must be.

He opened his eyes and was met with a blinding fluorescent light, he quickly shut them again to avoid scarring his pupils. He regained feeling in most of his body, and when he went to move his tongue, he felt a tube obstructing his throat. He began to choke on it out of fear that he might swallow it and reached up with his hand to yank it out, but he was too weak. He could hardly raise his hand. He began breathing faster and deeper, scared that he might choke to death in his hospital bed.

Luckily from out of nowhere a hand reached in and yanked the tube from his throat. Sam opened his mouth to oblige his rescuer. Once the tube had been removed, Sam let out a long sigh of relief and tried to open his eyes again. His ears suddenly opened up to the world, letting him hear an all too familiar voice.

"Nurse, call a doctor, he's awake!"

The lights were still too bright for Sam to stare up at the ceiling, so he tried turning on his side. The rest of his body didn't quite follow his movement, but he was able to twist his head to one side. Finally, he opened his eyes and saw clearly where he was.

The face that matched the voice Sam had heard came into view as she sat down in the chair next to his hospital bed.

"Sam, can you hear me? How're you feeling?" CJ asked looking at him obviously still concerned.

Sam nodded his head slightly. "Tired…," he croaked.

CJ laughed and cupped a hand over her mouth as if to keep herself from crying. Sam tried to put on a smile, but the nerves in his face were just barely switching back on.

"You had us all scared there for a minute," CJ said looking back at him like a mother would a child. "Ainsley said you hadn't gone home since the…," she stopped mid-sentence. Sam remembered why and the sorrow came flooding back through him.

He reached for her hand, lifting his up just an inch. She noticed and cupped his hand in hers tightly.

"You're really stupid, you know that?" CJ said as she smiled back at him. "You can't overdo yourself like that Samuel Seaborn, you're not a God."

"I…know…," Sam said weakly back to her. "Stupid…of…me."

At that moment, the doctor and a nurse stepped inside the hospital room and CJ looked back at them, then looked again at Sam. "I'm going to call everyone and let them know you're awake, I'll be right out in the hall," she said reassuringly as she let his hand slip from hers and stepped out of the room.

The doctor took her seat as the nurse began to work with the machinery that Sam was hooked up to.

"I see you've already removed the feeding tube on your own," the doctor said motioning down to the plastic cylinder that lay near his waist. "Anything else I should know about? You didn't strip off the hospital gown did you?"

If Sam had the strength to laugh, he would have. At least this guy had a sense of humor. Sam seemed to be lacking one of those recently.

"What…happened to me?" Sam asked. There was a sudden sharp pain in his arm and he jerked his head to look at the nurse, who was holding a needle in between her fingers.

"Don't worry, she's just taking your blood," the doctor said and Sam looked back over to him. "As for the reason you are here tonight, well Sam, you don't seem to be taking very good care of yourself."

"Tell me…something I don't know," Sam said mumbling his words.

"Sam you were exhausted," the doctor explained, "and not in the 'I just ran a mile in seven minutes exhausted', in the 'I just ran a marathon as a sprint and forgot to stay hydrated' exhausted. When was the last time you got a good night's sleep?"

Sam tried to remember. It had to have been the night before the attacks. "Night before last."

The doctor scoffed. "No, Sam. I mean a _good_ night's sleep, as in seven or more hours."

Sam didn't have an answer. It had been a long time, maybe since Washington state. His doctor got the idea and sighed. "According to your coworkers, you worked around the clock after Los Angeles, and the woman who accompanied you in the ambulance told paramedics you hadn't gone home in over twenty hours."

Ainsley. "She…came with me?" Sam asked.

The doctor either didn't hear him or elected not to answer on purpose. "When was the last time you had something of substance to eat? And not just a Milky Way bar, I mean a full meal."

Sam shrugged his shoulders even though he knew the answer. It had been at dinner, with Ainsley. That was a full day ago and until collapsing in his office, he had survived on energy drinks and a few small muffins from the White House mess. Hardly more than a hundred calories.

"Well, luckily, you can liquidize almost anything now," the doctor said again motioning to the feeding tube. "You're well supplemented for the next few hours, but don't take that as an excuse not to eat."

Sam nodded. "So what…happened exactly? To me, in my office."

"We in the medical field like to refer to it as neurological failure. It sounds a bit more serious than 'you fainted' and that's a good thing. High stress levels combined with overwhelming fatigue isn't something to be taken lightly by anyone, even the Deputy Communications Director of the White House."

"You…know what I do?" Sam asked slightly puzzled.

"I'm a doctor Sam," he replied simply. "I know what every single one of my patients does for work, it's my business too. Luckily, you have a lot of people in that building who care deeply about you, and I doubt they'll let this happen again."

The doctor stood up from the chair near Sam's bedside and the nurse left the room. The doctor turned to go as well but Sam still had questions.

"You're letting me go?" Sam asked.

The doctor turned to face him again. "On the condition that you go home, drink plenty of water, and sleep past your alarm clock by at least a few hours."

"I…have work in the morning," Sam said as firmly as he could.

The doctor glared at him, deadly serious. "No you don't." He turned to leave, but stopped in the doorway looking back at Sam once more.

"And Sam," he said firmly, "I better not be seeing you anytime soon. Take care of yourself, or find somebody to do it for you."

The doctor left Sam's hospital room, leaving him alone and still weak enough that he couldn't get up out of bed without help.

"CJ!" He shouted, finding his voice again. "I need my pants!"

 **Washington D.C.**

 **Sam Seaborn's Apartment**

 **The Next Morning/ 10:27 am**

Sam had taken the doctor's advice reluctantly, but he had taken it and asked CJ to drive him home the previous night. He had still been weak because of the exhaustion his body had undergone as well as the elevated levels of adrenaline in his system, his muscles needed time to reboot. The big ones anyways, his fingers were working just fine, which meant he could type, which meant he could still technically work.

The moment CJ had left him last night after a home-cooked meal of spaghetti and Caesar salad, Sam had gone straight to his computer to email Toby and see if there was anything he could work on while homebound. Toby proved to be a snitch. He had called CJ upon receiving the email, who then called Sam and told him that if he didn't go to sleep she would quote, 'Take advantage of your weakness and smother you with a pillow until you stop breathing', which is a great way to say 'I love you' to a friend. Still, Sam knew deep down she was right, and he was quite lethargic after chowing down on all that spaghetti. He fell onto his bed fully clothed and drifted to sleep just a minute later.

He didn't wake up the next morning until there was a loud knock on his door that wouldn't go away.

Slowly he climbed out of bed and made his way through his apartment. Three more loud knocks.

"Coming!" He shouted. That's when he realized how sore he was, though that was a good sign. At least he was walking on his own. CJ practically had to carry him from the hospital bed to her car and then from her car up to his apartment last night because he had been so weak. Two more loud knocks.

Sam reached the door and swung it open, "Jesus, Mary and Joseph what is-?"

He was immediately tackled by none other than the blonde Republican debater herself. As soon as she had wrapped her arms around him, his muscles were set on fire, the smallest of touches hurt.

"Ouch…," he groaned in her embrace.

She quickly retreated from her hug but stayed relatively close. That was okay, Sam thought, more than okay actually. He liked her close.

"Sorry, didn't know if you were okay or not, just needed to do that," Ainsley said nervously. She didn't know that she never needed to explain why she was touching him. He would always accept her, even when it hurt.

"That's okay," Sam answered, then looked quizzically back at her, "why are you here?"

"There are some things you need to know," she replied walking past him into his apartment. She set down her bag on his counter and whirled around to face him. "Were you up?"

"Uh, no, you woke me with your incessant banging," Sam said, not meaning to sound rude. He was actually glad she had woken him up. He had slept for nearly ten hours and it was time to go into work once again.

"Sorry," she apologized again, then quickly switching back to the stern woman she usually was. "You still need a shower."

"I'll shower when I die," he joked, "What do I need to know?"

"Well, for starters, when the President learned that you had collapsed, he immediately ordered Leo to give you the next three days off," she recited.

"That's unnecessary," Sam replied. "I'm fine, and there's still plenty of work to do."

"Not by you," Ainsley retorted, "Secret Service isn't even going to let you in the building."

Sam was pissed. He was fine. So what he fainted one time from exhaustion, he'd be fine now, he knew the worst had passed and that his friends would look out for him. Problem was his friends needed someone to look out for them too.

"All my writing will get-,"

"Passed on to Toby," Ainsley said cutting him off.

"Toby's overworked enough as it is!"

"Which is why Will is helping him full time, along with your speech writing staff."

"My meetings on the Hill-,"

"Canceled or turned over to Josh," Ainsley answered.

Sam put a hand on his forehead in worry. "It's too much for him to-,"

"Donna is in charge of scheduling, she's doing a pretty fantastic job of keeping it together, you should take a page out of her book sometime."

"CJ is going to go absolutely crazy without-,"

"CJ is fine," Ainsley insisted, "Everybody is fine. The White House will not fall apart in three days because you don't come to work."

Sam stayed silent for a moment. Maybe she was right. Maybe she was right about a lot of things. But he didn't want to admit that, not yet.

"What else was so pressing you had to come down here personally and tell me yourself?" Sam asked.

"Well," Ainsley answered staring down at the floor and slowly strutting over to where Sam stood near the front door. She reached him and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear in that cute way she always did before giving him the look. The look he had never been able to tear himself away from.

Her beautiful blue eyes jetted up connecting with his and locked his attention.

"Our dinner was…cut short the other night," Ainsley began to say, "And since I don't trust you to take care of yourself at home, I thought I would come over and cook for you the next couple of nights."

"Ainsley, you really don't have to-,"

"Oh, don't think I'm doing this out of the goodness of my own heart," she teased back at him staying ever so close. He desperately wanted to touch her again, to hold her. He wondered if she knew.

"I enjoy the company," she explained breaking through his thoughts. "Plus, I liked changing your mind, maybe I can do that again."

He chuckled. She had certainly done that. "I'm fairly certain that was the wine speaking, not me."

"Then we'll need some more of that," she breathed up into him and he inhaled her scent. God, she smelled amazing, how did she always smell amazing?

Her chest was practically touching his, when had she gotten so close? He could easily wrap his arms around her and take her into him, feeling every inch of her that he yearned to feel. Sam could almost taste the air around them, like it had been infused with some sort of sweet pheromone.

"I should shower…," he said while staring down into her eyes. He never wanted to not be staring into her eyes. It hurt almost, to look for this long. It hurt so good.

"Yes you should stinky," she teased slightly backing away from him. "What do you want to eat tonight?"

You, he thought instantly, I want to eat you. Repulsed by his sudden and uncharacteristic desire, Sam shoved that idea from his head quicker than it had formed.

"Up to you," he replied. "I chose the meal last time, in the 21st century, I believe it would only be fair to let the lady pick this time."

Ainsley had grabbed her bag off the counter again and walked back to him. Leaning up into him, she whispered into his ear, "Don't ever scare me like that again. Glad you're okay," and kissed his cheek. Sam took the small window of opportunity to smell her hair and touch the small of her back. He felt her flinch slightly and she drew away, walking out of his front door leaving him with a burning sensation that her lips left on his skin.

Ainsley hadn't mentioned the kiss in his office. Sam wondered if she thought he didn't remember it. Oh how wrong she was. He remembered. And he would never, ever forget.


	21. Touching

**A/N: The two of them alone in Sam's apartment? What could possibly happen... :P Enjoy!**

 **Washington D.C.**

 **Sam Seaborn's Apartment**

 **Dinner, Night One**

She had arrived at seven on the dot with bags full of groceries, at least two in each arm. Apparently she thought he lived like a bachelor. Upon reminding himself of what was in his own fridge, Sam realized she had assumed correctly. On tonight's menu was southern style baby back ribs, cornbread, and steamed broccoli. It was arguably the best and most complete meal Sam had ever eaten in his apartment.

Ainsley had almost burned down the building in the process, but that was the fun of it, right? Sam had made a joke about calling the fire department and she had hit him playfully on the arm defending herself.

'I'll have you know I'm an exceptional cook,' she had said, 'I've just never done baby back ribs in the oven before.'

They were now almost all the way through their meal, sitting at the small table in the dining room which Sam never used. Whenever he did eat at home it was either on the couch or in front of his computer. He had always needed a distraction while he ate and tonight his distraction was her. She hadn't dressed up for dinner, not that he expected her to, but she was even more gorgeous than she had been when they were out at the restaurant. She had donned a simple jeans and sweater combination, and her hair was tied behind her head in a ponytail. She was perfect.

Sam had cleaned up as well, having showered twice, once after she left, and once before she arrived. He made sure to put on cologne, but not too much to overwhelm her. He combed his hair, or tried to, but it always ended up doing whatever it wanted to anyways so he didn't worry so much about that.

He dressed casually, but hoped she would be impressed by his choices, that she would enjoy looking at him as much as he enjoyed looking at her. He desperately needed to return the favor after all she had done for him, after all the affection she had shown him. And what had he ever done? Not enough.

"Sam," Ainsley said drawing him back to their conversation. "Did you hear what I said?"

Sam looked back over at her and spotted a small drop of barbecue sauce on the corner of her mouth, just underneath her lip. He reached across the table with his napkin and lightly dabbed it clean for her as she stayed completely still. He brought his napkin back from her face and placed it in his lap again.

"No, sorry, you had a little smidgen," he explained mimicking the spot where it had been on his own face, "what were you saying?"

The corners of her mouth formed into a small grin as she spoke. "I was trying to change your mind, but I can see it's currently elsewhere. Anything you want to talk about?"

Sure there was. He wanted to talk about her. He wanted to talk about their kiss. Their night long ago in Washington state, their time in his office after the shooting, the time she had outright told him she wanted to kiss him. How long ago that was. In an effort to keep himself contained, he chose a less dangerous topic.

"How're things in the counsel's office?" he asked.

Ainsley sighed and took a sip of the wine he had poured them. She had bought five bottles for the three nights and he had asked her if she was trying to get him drunk. She had told him she didn't need him drunk to get what she wanted from him, and he believed her.

"As bureaucratic and disorganized as ever," she answered, "feels just like home."

Good, he wanted to say. Because I never want you to leave. "Anybody still giving you crap for your Republicanism?"

"Why?" Ainsley asked raising an eyebrow at him. "You going to report them to Leo for disagreeing with me?"

"No," he answered, "I'd report them to the President." Sam saw her blush and try to hide it by taking another sip of her wine. She lowered the glass from her lips and her voice graced his ears again.

"Anybody ever tell you that you worry way too much?"

"Well if I'm not there to have your back from all the war-mongering Democrats who's going to?" Sam asked facetiously. "Toby can't throw a punch to save his life and Josh thinks you hate him so I doubt he'll come to your rescue."

"Who ever said I needed rescuing?" Ainsley retorted as she winked back at him. God that woman. A simple wink and Sam was already swimming in arousal. "If anything, you're the one that keeps getting hurt, and mostly at your own expense might I add."

Sam couldn't deny it. He knew it was true. He had worked himself too hard.

"So that makes you my knight in shining armor huh?" he asked looking again at his friend.

"Maybe," Ainsley answered as she took another bite of broccoli. "But I've never been one for flashy costumes."

Sam took another sip of his wine and cleared his throat. "Speaking of flashy costumes, the correspondent's dinner is coming up relatively soon-,"

"Soon?" Ainsley asked cutting him off before he had gone too far. "Sam, it's in a month and a half. I can't believe you're already thinking about it. Don't you have a thousand other things on your mind before then?"

"Not right now," he admitted. "Right now I'm thinking about the correspondent's dinner, and how much I want you to accompany me."

Ainsley blushed again. "Sam…are you asking me out on a date?"

Sam leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms playfully. "Wasn't dinner the other night a date?"

Sam didn't think Ainsley's face could get any redder, he didn't think his could either but was still trying to maintain a shred of charm.

"Well, yes…," she answered softly, "I suppose it was, but I didn't really give you much of a choice did I?"

"You were quite unladylike about it," Sam said reminiscing on that day and teasing her. "I mean you might as well have dragged me there by my collar."

"Saaaammm," she pleaded, "Don't make fun of me! I was nervous…,"

"You don't have to be," Sam confessed. "Never with me."

Sam caught her eyes again with his and they exchanged what could only be described as a look of true friendship, and maybe something more. Suddenly realizing how long he had been looking into her eyes, he quickly got up from the dining table, collected their plates and headed into the kitchen.

"Do you even know how to do dishes Mr. Seaborn?" Ainsley asked coming up behind him at the sink.

"Contrary to your stereotypical and frankly degrading view of my bachelor-like lifestyle Ms. Hayes, I do know how to do simple caveman tasks yes," Sam answered as he turned on the faucet and let the dirty plates soak. Ainsley scooted next to him in front of the sink and reached across his body for the dish soap.

"Then you wouldn't forget this would you?" She asked shaking the small bottle in her hand. "Now, where are your sponges?"

Ah, yes. The sponges. Those things he didn't own having rarely needed to actually scrape dinner plates.

"Ah, those would be at the corner store a few blocks away…,"

Ainsley giggled. "I guess we'll have to use our hands then."

Sam raised his eyebrows at her suspiciously as she requested he hold out his hands over the sink. He did slowly and she poured the dish soap in his palms. She did the same thing with her own hands and began to swipe her hands across the plates as water pelted her wrists. Sam smirked and did the same thing on his side of the sink. A few seconds later, he felt a splash of water on his arm and looked over at the beautiful woman next to him.

She was smiling like a kid with an ice cream sundae. "Sorry," she said sarcastically, giggling again.

Goddamnit if she only knew what that giggle did to him. "You did that on purpose," he said accusingly.

"Yes. I did. And this is on purpose too," she said splashing soapy water on his sleeve again.

"Oh you are so going to get it Ainsley Hayes," Sam said as he turned the faucet on her side of the sink and began to splash her with water. She laughed as he did so he continued. Soon enough, her sweater was fairly well watered down and she was staring at him in disbelief. Then she smiled devilishly and began to splash him back, turning the faucet on him, literately. In an effort to stop the massive amount of soapy water he was being bombarded with, Sam blindly reached for Ainsley's hands in the sink.

He found them, quickly sliding his fingers over hers and releasing her grip on the faucet. Almost instantaneously, he was overcome with lust as her wet, silky hands writhed beneath his, fingers playing across his palms. In this moment of primal urges, Sam slipped each of his fingers in between hers in the sink under the running water and held them there, feeling the wet touch of her skin move against his. She was squirming to reach for the faucet, but he needed more. Sam clawed into her palms with his fingertips, dragging each finger across her hand with equal pleasure. The sensation of the warm water running over and through their combined hands nearly sent Sam over the edge.

She stopped struggling and Sam hurriedly stopped his rushed touching of her water-soaked skin. Drawing his hands away from hers slowly, he felt her fingers linger on his for just a second longer than expected. Extremely embarrassed, Sam looked at her sweater, it was soaked through and even the tip of her ponytail had gotten damp.

"I'll get you a shirt to wear home," he said as he walked off to the bedroom, leaving her standing there at his sink, equally embarrassed.

He returned to the kitchen thirty seconds later to see she was no longer wearing her sweater, it was lying on the floor at her feet and she was looking dangerously at him in just a bra. Sam tried not too stare at her chest for too long, but her breasts…they were the most beautiful, perky, luscious pair Sam had ever seen. And they were only covered by a thin layer of black fabric. Dear God.

He gulped and approached her, holding out the light sweatshirt in front of him for her to take.

"Thank you," she said simply as she took the sweatshirt and slipped it over her body, covering her chest again from view. Sam breathed a sigh of relief quietly.

"Sorry for that," he said.

"It's okay, I started it, sorry about your shirt too," she replied pointing to his own soaked chest. "I think I should get going."

Ainsley walked past him headed for the front door. Sam spun around.

"Ainsley," he said as she turned to bid him goodbye. "Thanks for dinner, I really enjoyed it."

She smiled and spoke sweetly. "Your welcome. I'll see you tomorrow night, as long as I don't have to bring an extra set of clothes."

Sam smirked and chuckled at the implication. "No, no of course not. Goodnight Ainsley."

"Sam," she said bringing his gaze up to meet hers one more time. "I would love to be your date for the correspondent's dinner."

He couldn't do anything but nod his agreement. Ainsley smiled once last time and left his apartment. Not more than five seconds after she had left, Sam looked down at the floor humbly and grinned. He was standing in a growing puddle of lukewarm water, but he didn't care. She had said yes.


	22. Dancing

**A/N: Another Ainsley POV chapter, hopefully I did her character justice, but it's just so difficult considering she was only in twelve episodes total from the series! Anyways hope you all enjoy, and please review, I live on feedback!**

 **Washington D.C.**

 **Sam Seaborn's Apartment**

 **Dinner, Night Two**

Ainsley had thought a lot about what he asked her over dinner last night. To be his date to the correspondent's dinner. Of course she said yes, how could she ever say no to that man? How could he ever think she would say no?

There was also the water fight in the kitchen sink afterwards which she had fallen asleep thinking about.

The moment their hands had touched under the running water, both of them soapy and slippery Ainsley had felt a head rush come on. She was addicted to the touch of his wet skin rubbing against hers, it was euphoric, even if it was just their hands. Ainsley's mind was quickly overcome by her libido, blocking all good ideas from entering her brain. She had almost jumped on him right there in his kitchen, demanding that they rip each other's clothes off with haste so that she might be able to fulfill her fantasy.

Thankfully, Sam had stopped his assault on her hands just in time and pulled away before she lost it all. Still though, her brain was not in the right place to be making the most adult decisions, and when he went to retrieve her a new shirt, she had slipped off her top and waited for him, indecently unclothed. She watched him stare at her chest, watched his mouth fall open just enough to instill the self-confidence she lacked back into her personality.

She wanted him to stare, she needed him to stare. To be in awe of her like she was of him twenty-four hours of the day, even while she slept. Her unrelenting urge to feel this man, to touch him, to let him touch her was so unbearable, Ainsley was ashamed that she had given in after dinner last night and the minute she got home, pleasured herself to the thought of him. But not just him, that's how it started of course, but by the time she had reached a climax, she was thinking about his hands rubbing over her thighs, his mouth alternating between kissing her and teasing her hard nipples with his tongue, and lastly but most importantly, fucking the life out of her. It was one of the most intense orgasms she had ever had.

Now was not the time to be dwelling on that however, as she approached Sam's front door. She couldn't rile herself up before seeing him, she didn't know what would happen then, and that scared her. Ainsley collected herself and began to think of dinner as she knocked on his door. No answer.

Ainsley knocked again, three times. No answer. She tried to door handle. Locked. Maybe he wasn't home, that's okay, she would surprise him. He had given her a key to his apartment after the shooting after all.

'If you ever want to come over, if you ever want to not be afraid, I'm here,' he had said before entrusting her with the key. She had never used it before, but now, she figured there was no better time. She had told him she would be over at seven again tonight, but she had finished up at the White House early and couldn't think of any reason to stay away until then. It was almost six now.

Ainsley twisted the key and pushed the door open, walking inside his apartment and closing the door behind her. She set her key on the counter and grabbed a glass from the cupboard in his kitchen. All of a sudden, a voice shouted out from behind her.

"If you're a burglar, just know I have a gun and I know how to use it!"

It was Sam, he was home after all. She wondered why he didn't answer the door. Oh well, she thought, he had probably been sleeping.

"You most certainly do not have a gun and I'm just here to steal a few plates anyways," she shouted back over her shoulder, "would you really kill me over a couple of dirty dishes?"

There was a momentary pause. "Ainsley?"

"It's me Sam, sorry if I'm a bit early," she shouted back as she poured herself a glass of water.

"No…uh, no that's fine, I'll just be…um…give me a second." Sam sounded rushed. Strange.

About two minutes later as Ainsley was washing the potatoes, Sam emerged from his bedroom and she turned to greet him.

"Were you running a marathon in there?" she asked somewhat jokingly as she looked him over. He was sweaty and his hair had a certain scruffiness to it.

"No…I was just ah…just…working out a little," he replied in between breaths.

"Uh huh," Ainsley said, she wasn't buying it. What the hell had he been doing? Sam was now at her side by the sink once again looking over the ingredients she had laid out for tonight's dinner.

"You need to shave," Ainsley said looking at his five o'clock shadow. "I don't like the mountain man look on you."

"CJ likes it," he replied, "she says it makes me look ruggedly handsome."

"Well CJ isn't the one cooking you dinner three nights in a row, is she?" Ainsley asked rhetorically. "And I think you look handsome without the Paul Bunyan thing going on. I'll take care of the preparation, you go shave."

Sam let out a sarcastic sigh. "Yes dear." He turned and walked back into the bathroom. As soon as she heard the bathroom door close, Ainsley relaxed her body and leaned up against the sink. She knew he was joking, but hearing that word roll off his tongue made her heart melt.

Nearly half an hour later, dinner was almost ready to be served, the radio was tuned to some station that Sam had picked and Ainsley was pouring herself a glass of chardonnay. The song changed from some 90's pop ballad to something Ainsley had not heard in a long time.

She heard Sam begin to shuffle his feet behind her and she turned around to see him dancing in his kitchen. Well, if you could call it dancing.

"Sam what are you doing?" she asked unable to suppress a smile from her face.

He two-stepped over to her and quickly roped an arm around her waist, holding her close.

"I'll need some practice for the correspondent's dinner," he joked.

She smirked back at him and put one of her hands in his as he led them away from the counter into the middle of his small D.C. apartment kitchen.

He held her close, clutching her to his chest as he rocked them back and forth together. Ainsley began to sway her hips to the music and laughed when Sam began to sing along.

" _For once in my life_ ,"

Ainsley couldn't help but giggle at his sudden excitement. He had turned into a loose cannon, a side of him was coming out that she hadn't seen before, and she loved it. She gripped his hand tighter as they danced.

" _Somehow I know I'll be strong,"_

His hand was gripping her back tighter now, and just as she was about to lay her head on his chest, he pushed her away and twirled her around during the upbeat chorus of the classic song.

Ainsley couldn't help but grin as she watched the coworker she was falling for undulate like a madman in front of her. He had almost zero rhythm, but she didn't care, she just loved seeing him like this. He approached her again and took her in his arms, holding her as they spun around like two plastic horses on a carousel.

" _As long as I know I have love I can make it,"_

"Saaammm," Ainsley said playfully as he twirled her again under his arm. "You're a terrible singer."

"Don't stop me now Ainsley," he said warningly, "Or I'll turn on Sinatra after this." He winked.

She giggled and leaned up into him, making sure not to trip him with her feet. Ainsley had never been a dancer, but with him she felt like she could do anything. He had moved both of his hands to her lower back and was practically holding her up now. She linked her arms around his neck, right where they needed to be.

" _For once in my life, I have someone who needs me,"_ Sam sung down to her.

She stayed in his arms swaying back and forth and relishing in the moment of their intimacy until the song faded and Sam sung the last line, softly and harmoniously. The song ended and Sam released her from his embrace, staring down at her. She stayed there, gazing up at the stars in his eyes until the oven dinged loudly and broke the magic that had existed between them for those two minutes.

"Ah, perfect timing, dinner's ready."


	23. Kissing

**A/N: The last night of their pre-arranged dinners! How will it go? What will Sam do? What will Ainsley do? I guess you'll have to read and find out :) Again please, if you liked it, or have any input, leave me a short review :P I love reading reactions!**

 **Washington D.C.**

 **Sam Seaborn's Apartment**

 **Dinner, Night Three**

Sam was sad at the prospect of having to go back to work tomorrow. Boy, he thought, now I know how two-thirds of the rest of the country feels. Sam had always enjoyed working at the White House, no matter how stressful it got sometimes. Never once had the thought of quitting come across his mind. It wasn't now of course either, he was excited to go back to work tomorrow and see Josh and Toby and CJ and everyone. But he was sad that going back to work meant that this would be the last night that Ainsley cooked him dinner. He had really enjoyed these past three nights, they had given him an opportunity to unwind, truly unwind that is.

The bad news about being practically confined to his apartment for three days was of course he was completely out of the loop about what the President, Leo and the others were working on. He would have to play catch up when he got back. And Sam hated playing catch up. Hell, in order to get ahead of schedule again he might have to work overtime, and CJ would kill him if she found out he was staying long hours at the office again.

"Hey."

Sam looked over across the empty space on his couch that existed between him and Ainsley. After a marvelous cauliflower fettucine alfredo dinner, he had asked Ainsley to stay and finish up the bottle of wine. Lord knows he would never drink wine alone, that's begging to be sad.

"What're you thinking about?" She asked sweetly. She was beautiful tonight. As if that were any different any other night. Ainsley Hayes was never not beautiful. Especially to him.

Sam smiled weakly, trying not to worry her. "Nothing, just work."

Ainsley leaned forward to set her wine glass down on the coffee table where Sam had his feet up. Looking back at him, she continued her questioning.

"What about work?"

Sam sighed and set his wine glass down as well. "Just…how behind I'm going to be. I mean, three days at the White House is like a full work week anywhere else."

"You'll be fine," Ainsley reassured leaning back into his couch as Sam watched her blonde hair bless his cushions with their touch. "Toby and Will took care of a lot on their own. I think I even heard rumors that the President is going to offer Will a job."

"Really?" Sam asked. "That's great. He's a bright guy. Needs to work a little on his people skills, but I'm sure if we tie him down to a chair and tell him to write until his fingers start to bleed he'll learn quick enough."

Sam watched Ainsley roll her eyes. He loved it when she did that.

"Well I don't want to put a damper on your spirits," she said sarcastically, "but I think that violates at least fourteen White House employment policies, and maybe a few laws too."

"Damn," Sam said jokingly. "You know what I've always said, there are too many regulations these days. We ought to go back to the simple times of law. When you could stone a guy to death for working on a Sunday."

Ainsley smirked at him and he couldn't help but chuckle. "Maybe you should move to Pakistan Mr. Seaborn," she said teasing him. "I hear they still read the Old Testament too."

"Oh please the Old Testament?" Sam asked rhetorically as he stared back at her. "I was referring to when the ancient barbarians wrote their commandments on rock walls using chicken's toes."

She laughed and he looked away for a moment smiling, when he looked back over to her, Sam swore she had moved closer to him.

"Where did you hear that rumor anyways?" Sam asked, genuinely intrigued. Will was a great writer, not as great as yours truly, but if the President hired him full time that could really reduce the number of headaches Sam had on a daily basis.

"A good reporter never reveals her source," Ainsley quipped. Sam noticed her body position had changed, her feet were now tucked under her legs and she was sitting almost criss cross style next to him. Her eyes were on his again, watching him like a hawk.

"Good thing you're a lawyer and contractually obligated to tell the truth then," Sam said, knowing he held the upper hand, even if he felt like he didn't.

"Fine," Ainsley replied. "Abbey told me."

Sam was confused. "Abbey?"

"Mrs. Bartlet."

This was news to Sam in more ways than one. "You refer to the First Lady of the United States by her first name?"

"We've gotten close over the past few months," Ainsley replied sipping her wine again. "She hates being called ma'am and Mrs. Bartlet is too demeaning to her profession."

"Uh huh," Sam said leaning back into his plushy couch. "And what else do you and 'Abbey' talk about?"

"You know, girl things," Ainsley replied, giving Sam the 'I'm-completely-innocent' eyes. "Our hair, makeup, cute boys, that sort of thing."

Sam almost snorted his wine. "Cute boys? You've got to be joking, she's married to the President."

"That doesn't mean she can't talk, Sam," Ainsley said as she laid her hands out on her legs. Sam's thoughts ran back to last night, how easy it would be now to reach out and take them for his own.

"She has even talked about you a few times," Ainsley said, yanking Sam out of his daydream.

"I'm sorry, what did you just say?" Sam asked. The First Lady? Talking about him? Life doesn't make any sense anymore…

Ainsley adjusted her position, obviously trying to hide the fact that she was getting closer to him. Scooting over across the couch cushions to reach him. She stopped about six inches from where her legs would be touching his.

"I know it's scandalous isn't it?" Ainsley teased. Sam recognized the look he was getting from her now; he had seen it a few times before. It was the look that told him she was either really drunk or extremely confident in whatever it was she was doing. "She thinks you're very handsome…she likes to talk about you a little too much sometimes…to be honest it makes me a bit jealous."

The little pauses she took for breaths between each sentence was killing Sam. He took a deep breath of his own before speaking.

"I think you've had a little too much Ainsley," Sam said motioning to her glass.

"I think you haven't had enough, not for what I'm about to tell you," Ainsley said. "But…don't freak out or anything okay? I've been holding this to myself for a while and I think it's time you should know."

Having absolutely no idea what to think or say, Sam just muttered a simple 'okay,' and kept his eyes on hers, hoping this wasn't anything he couldn't handle.

Ainsley sighed. "The first time I went up to the Residence to speak with Abbey, after the Washington state trip, she somehow had the…misconception, that we were an item."

Sam looked at his friend in disbelief. "What?"

"She thought we were together," Ainsley repeated, "Apparently a little birdy whose name rhymes with Ronnatella Doss figured out that we shared a bed in Washington and assumed one thing and told the First Lady about it. So, Abbey had the idea that we were…seeing each other."

Sam's mind was officially blown. He had dealt with a lot of strange, stupid, outrageous, simply irrefutable events in his career, but this one took the grand prize for biggest surprise.

Sam stared back at his gossiping friend who now was looking at him worriedly. Like she was afraid of what he might say. He didn't want to scare her away, not now, not ever, but didn't want to make this anymore awkward than it already was.

"I take it you corrected her?" Sam asked.

"Oh, yes, immediately," Ainsley replied quickly.

"Well…," Sam said thinking back to poker night a few weeks prior. "That explains why the President shared his best Marvin Gaye advice with me…,"

"I'm sorry?" Ainsley said, having not heard him mutter the last few words.

"Nothing," Sam answered looking back up at her. "Is there anything else Mrs. Bartlet knows about us that could be considered…risqué?"

She pondered to herself for a moment and then Sam watched her cheeks go red. Oh boy. Here we go again. She spoke with shame and Sam never wanted her to feel that way.

"She knows about the night you saved me in the bar-,"

"I wish you would stop saying 'saved', it's not like there weren't other guys waiting to swoop in and 'save' you," Sam said slightly peeved that she had told Mrs. Bartlet about that.

"Fine," she said firmly, "she knows about how you 'intervened' with that guy in the bar…and she knows about what happened afterwards."

Sam bit his tongue in bewilderment. "What do you mean by 'what happened afterwards'? After the bar? How does she know that?"

Ainsley stayed silent and stared at the couch between them. In that moment, Sam figured it out and a bomb came crashing down on his head creating an explosion bigger than when he realized he had spelt Mrs. Bartlet's first name wrong in the first campaign address during the last election.

"You remember," he said. "You remember everything from that night."

Ainsley nodded but didn't look up at him. Sam was shocked. He stood up from the couch and paced a few times around his living room as she sat there looking ashamed.

He stopped and looked over at her again. "Why…why wouldn't you tell me? Why lie?"

"Because Sam," she replied finally looking up at him with a certain seriousness. "I was so embarrassed. I still am! I can't believe that I let myself say those things to you, act that way around you. I was being a complete bimbo and I didn't want you to think less of me."

Sam could see Ainsley was on the verge of crying, she was a tough girl, but this, this must have gotten to her more than he thought. He approached the couch carefully and sat down next to her, his leg only a couple of inches away from touching hers.

"I don't think less of you," he said softly as she looked down away from his gaze again. "You had a few too many drinks and you were completely out of it. I would never think that you would take those…advances if you were in the right mind set."

She suddenly looked up at him and spoke calmly. "But I have taken advances towards you before, I-,"

"If this is about the kiss after I fell Ainsley, I want you to know that you don't have to be ashamed of that, it was really sweet actually, even if it could be considered workplace harassment."

Her eyes narrowed slightly and her demeanor changed from apologetic to interrogative. Oh shit. Had he really just said that?

"You remember," she said dryly.

"Hardly, I mean I don't even technically-,"

He had tried to deflect but she cut him off quickly. "Oh my Lord, Sam! You are the biggest hypocrite I have ever known! You call me out for not telling the truth and then you elect not to inform me that you were still conscious when I kissed you!" Ainsley scoffed but didn't move from the couch like he expected her to.

Sam didn't know what to say. He was in the dog house now. And by a woman he wasn't even dating nonetheless. Now how did that work?

"I'm sorry," he said simply at a loss for other words.

She breathed a heavy sigh and stared up at the ceiling. "It's okay."

A few seconds of utter and awkward silence passed before Sam could remember how to speak English. When he did finally remember, he said something stupid. Figures.

"It was nice," he said, regretting it as soon as the last letter left his mouth. "And it was nice of you to ride in the ambulance with me."

Ainsley sighed and looked back down into his eyes. He no longer saw frustration in them, and he took that as a sign that things were good between them again.

"I was worried about you," she said softly.

"You didn't have to ride with me," he replied truthfully.

"Yes I did," she said. "I needed too."

Sam scooted closer to her, hearing her say that she needed him made his heart flutter. She stared at him confusingly as he took her hand and held it firmly in one of his. Reactively, he let his leg fall closer until it touched hers and he sat almost right on top of her.

"Sam…," she murmured, "what are you doing?"

He began to rub his thumb over hers in little circles, doing whatever he could to comfort her. He wanted to let her know it was okay, that he wasn't going to hurt her or lie to her. It was time for the first step in the right direction and hopefully he would end up someplace he had wanted to be for a long time.

"Ainsley Hayes," Sam whispered as he brought his free hand up to her face and held her cheek lightly in his palm. "You are the most beautiful woman on the face of the Earth…and I would like to kiss you. Without fainting this time."

He watched her eyes sparkle to life as she grinned just slightly. She sat up straighter on the couch to close the proximity between their faces. Only an inch or two now remained separating their lips. An inch or two of air, but a whole world of unknown emotion.

She breathed into his mouth as she spoke and he relished in every molecule of her perfume. She smelled wonderful tonight, like a tropical beach and mango-flavored iced tea.

"Are you sure…," she said, not exactly phrasing it as a question. More of an invitation, which Sam accepted gladly.

"Yes," Sam groaned. His desire becoming far too much to fight off.

Ainsley squeezed his hand in response and brought her free hand up to his neck, grasping his skin with a sudden urgency.

And that was when Sam did the unthinkable. The thing he had dreamt about for months. He leaned his mouth slightly down to meet hers, and graced the skin of her lips with his. They fit perfectly with each other, like two pieces coming together to complete a puzzle.

After at least half a minute of holding his lips on hers, her top lip just barely resting between the two of his, Sam let his hand fall off her cheek and pulled away. In response, Ainsley's fingertips left the skin on his neck, her hand falling down to rest on his thigh.

He smiled at her as she opened her eyes to look at him.

"Better than when you were supposedly unconscious?" she asked, looking flirtatiously back at him.

Sam wanted to have her so badly. He wanted to kiss her again. To feel her. To make love to her. But it wasn't time for that, he didn't know what this meant for them, nor did he want to think about that right now. All he could manage to think about was how damn beautiful she was.

"By a country mile," he replied, winking back at her.

"It was for me too," Ainsley said, "your lips weren't freezing cold."

"Neither were yours," Sam pointed out.

Ainsley looked away from him for a second, obviously just as flushed as he was. "I have to know; do you kiss Democrats like that?"

Sam grinned and shook his head. "No, I'm usually kissing their asses."

Ainsley bared her perfect white teeth in a smile. "You're funny."

"As if you didn't already know," Sam joked.

Ainsley stood up from the couch. "I should get going." As disappointed as he was, Sam knew they shouldn't be rushing anything. Tonight had been near perfect. And he wanted to keep it that way.


	24. Back to Work

**A/N: We are slowly nearing the end of this collection, so please stay tuned for more :) Enjoy!**

 **Washington D.C.**

 **The West Wing**

 **The Following Day**

Going back to work hadn't been as hard as Sam had thought it was going to be. Ainsley had been right yet again; Toby and Will took the brunt of the work revolving around the terrorist attacks and therefore Sam was able to catch up within a few hours.

Ginger had welcomed him back warmly, despite his blowing up at her the other day, as did most of his staffers. They had even splurged and gotten him a welcome back card, which everyone had signed. It was a nice gesture, although Sam really only wanted one thing since getting back into the office. And that thing was a return to normalcy.

Well, as normal as a day at the White House could get. The terrorist attacks in Los Angeles were still weighing heavily on everyone's minds and hearts, and there was still a lot to be done in that aspect. Thankfully, Sam had a meeting with Leo, Josh and the President to get him caught up.

Charlie emerged from the Oval and nodded to Sam. "You can go in now Sam."

"Thanks Charlie." Sam walked inside the Oval Office and found the President, Leo and Josh sitting on the two sofas in the center of the room.

The President stood up from his chair and approached Sam, extending his hand out as he did.

"There he is, the reluctant vacationer returns, how are you doing Sam?" The President asked.

Sam shook the man's hand and sat down next to Josh, nodding to Leo as he did. "Better now Sir. Ready to work."

"Good," the President said then looking back over to Leo. "Well let's not linger any longer, Leo where are we at with the TSA appropriations?"

Leo cleared his throat before speaking and leaned forwards. "I've spoken with the Speaker and Minority leader Sir, they say we can clear up about 18 million in the budget."

"18 million?" The President asked. "You're pulling my leg. Leo didn't we just spend three days devising an effective cost benefit analysis plan for increasing security?"

"Yes Sir we did but Congress is telling us-,"

"Leo it was 196 million!" The President nearly shouted. "You're telling me Congress is undercutting our framework by 178 million dollars?"

The President put his face in his hands and looked back up over to Josh.

"Let's say we take the 18 million for whatever good it'll do, where are we at in the House and Senate?"

Josh shifted in his seat. "Sir, I've spoken with Senate leadership on both sides and they say their willing to pass it, if the House gets it through with an amendment."

"Oh Christ, okay, tell me, what's the amendment?" The President asked.

Josh sighed. "School vouchers, Sir. They want to add 12 million to the package for school vouchers."

The President looked at Josh as if he had just told him that the Earth started spinning clockwise.

"So we're not going to get that 18 million are we?"

Josh shook his head. "Not unless House democratic leadership changes its mind on school vouchers for the first time in fifty years."

Sam took the opportunity to jump in. "What if we don't get the approval of Democratic leadership?"

There was absolute silence in the room for a long couple of seconds. Then Leo spoke.

"Are we sure he's okay?" Leo asked looking over at Josh, who just shrugged.

Sam leaned forward towards the President. "Sir, the Republicans want school vouchers, badly. If we gave it to them and you waltzed into the Speaker's office tomorrow and told them you wanted to spend that 18 million on candy bars for every illegal immigrant in America, they would approve it."

"Yeah, but Sam, we don't want school vouchers, remember? A Democrat who's for school vouchers is like a Republican who's against gun ownership, it's a fantasy," Josh argued.

"Right, but we're not for school vouchers Josh, we're for the extra 18 million dollars that we're going to spend on keeping the American people safer from terrorist attacks," Sam shot back.

Sam looked back up at the President who was cupping his mouth with his hands, like he was cold.

"I think you've been hanging out with one too many Republicans Sam," the President said.

"Only one Sir," Sam replied.

"Which is one too many in this city," Leo said plainly.

"Alright," the President said signaling that that conversation had ended. "Josh, Sam I want you two to start working on the language. And just because we're throwing the entire Democratic party off our backs doesn't mean we should drop them completely." He looked over at Leo next as they all stood up from the sofas. "Meet with Nancy, see what she's got on the Saudi's, I want to know who these guys were working for Leo."

The three of them said a joint 'Thank you Mr. President' and turned to leave the Oval. Just as Sam reached the door, the President called for him.

Sam turned around, "Yes Mr. President?"

"Come back in here and shut the door would you."

Sam obeyed and walked over to the famous Resolute Desk, where the President sat.

"This whole exodus from the homeland thing wouldn't happen to be Ainsley Hayes' idea would it?" The President asked calmly.

"No Sir," Sam answered. Though he did agree, when Sam spat out the idea, he was surprised himself at the prospect of abandoning the Democratic leadership, but he wanted that 18 million. No matter how small it was, it was something. Something that could be used to protect Americans in the future.

"Just wondering." The President replied. "How was dinner?"

Sam was caught off guard by the President's follow up question. "I'm sorry Sir?"

"Dinner, with Miss Hayes, how was it?" The President asked, as if it were nothing other than a common courtesy.

Sam stayed silent a moment trying to figure out an appropriate response to the Commander in Chief.

"How…exactly do you know about my dinner with Ainsley?" Sam asked confusingly.

"Besides the fact that you just confirmed it," the President replied suavely, "I have a MQ-1C Gray Eagle on loan from the Army hovering just outside your apartment window and I have to admit I've been a bit of a peeping Tom lately, the cameras on this thing are just so good when you don't have to worry about it getting shot down by small arms fire."

Sam smirked and tried to apologize, but the President kept rambling on.

"I'm not supposed to tell you this, but the man who lives down the hall from you, yes, the tall, brown haired, shifty looking one, is an undercover NSA officer tasked with knowing your every move. Hell, he's probably out there hiding in the bushes right now watching us with the x-ray goggles he got out of the Cheerio's box this morning."

Sam let a few seconds pass by to make sure the President was done joking. It appeared he was.

"So how do you know about my dinner with Ainsley?" Sam inquired.

"Abbey told me," the President replied.

Sam nodded his head in understanding. Ainsley told Abbey, Abbey told the President. Boy was he just left out of all this gossip.

"It went fine," Sam answered.

The President nodded his head as if he suddenly understood how every single minute of all three of their dinners went. "Well Abbey told me I should apologize about my remarks to you about the make-up sex thing-,"

"No apology is necessary Sir, really," Sam said quickly. "It was just a simple misunderstanding."

"Okay, but if Abbey asks you, you'll tell her I apologized fully and wholeheartedly before weeping at the discomfort I caused you, I don't need that woman getting on me about this anymore. We've got our fair share of misunderstandings to get through in Congress."

"Yes Mr. President, thank-,"

Sam had tried to bid goodbye, but was trapped by the President's unrelenting need to speak his mind.

"I know about the correspondent's dinner too," he said in a hushed tone, "and let me say, if you decide to spice things up a little afterwards, Abbey and I do this great thing where she puts her legs-,"

"Thank you Mr. President!"

The President looked up from his desk and saw Sam had already practically run out of the Oval Office, away from whatever terrifying advice he had thought the President was going to give. Jed whistled to himself a short tune and leaned back in his chair. Making people uncomfortable, a Josiah Bartlet story. What an excellent name for a biography.


	25. A Private Affair

**A/N: More Sam/Ainsley cuteness :)**

 **Washington D.C.**

 **The Library of Congress**

One of the more interesting things that Sam had learned from living in D.C. for as long as he had now was that contrary to its name, the Library of Congress didn't actually receive that many visits from congressmen. And Sam knew this because if any of the 535 members of Congress actually visited the building, they wouldn't be considering cutting its budget next fiscal year.

The building itself was beautiful on the inside, large chandeliers hung from the fifty-foot-high ceiling above the main reading room, which was spherical in design and reminded Sam a lot of the Oval Office. Not to mention all of the knowledge and history that was contained within the pages of its collection of over fifteen million catalogued books. To Sam, it was the cultural center of downtown Washington, and a great place to spend personal time.

"Hey there stranger," a familiar female voice from behind him said. Sam turned his shoulder as the body that matched the voice sat down next to him in the secluded corner of the national library.

"Leo told me I might find you here," Ainsley said scooting her chair a bit closer to his. "I thought you would have gone home after the night we had."

He smirked at her, guessing she had phrased their rough night at work that way on purpose in an effort to make him uncomfortable. Sam took off his glasses and set them down on the old oak table in front of them.

"Did you know that the first ever Librarian John J. Buckley was only paid two dollars an hour and also served as Clerk to the House of Representatives?" Sam asked, wanting to share his new knowledge with anyone who would listen.

"I did not have the slightest clue actually," Ainsley replied keeping her eyes on him dangerously. "Did you know that George Washington wasn't actually the first President?"

"He was under this Constitution," Sam said motioning to the copy of their country's founding documents he had been reading. "And in my book, that's the only one that matters."

"Unless of course it comes to the 2nd Amendment and school prayer, or flag-burning, or the whole 'any powers not expressed in this document are reserved to the States' thing," Ainsley retorted.

Sam turned in his chair to face her more directly. "Okay, first you didn't get the language even remotely right, and second…I don't need a second."

"Since when do you ever," Ainsley said poking fun at him. She suddenly began to speak in a hushed tone. "What are you doing tonight?"

"Sitting here with you until I can wrap my head around why on the night of the Librarian's death House Appropriations decides to announce a 22% cut to the Library's budget next year. I mean look at this place Ainsley," Sam said motioning to the vastness of the building, "What are we going to do if we keep cutting culture and education out of the federal budget?"

"Spend it on military technology and Medicare," Ainsley answered simply. "Don't worry Sam, 22% is what? A couple million dollars? It's not like we're talking about cutting California out of the Union."

"You would enjoy that wouldn't you?" Sam replied jokingly.

"Well it would certainly free up some extra dollars in the budget," Ainsley teased back at him. "But then you wouldn't be considered a citizen and immigration might kick you out. Congressional Republicans aren't exactly big on illegals working in the White House."

"And you wouldn't enjoy seeing me get booted out of the country?" Sam asked facetiously.

Ainsley put one of her hands on Sam's thigh and leaned out of her seat to meet his lips with hers. For the third time she was kissing him, but this time was unbelievably better than the last two. She was pressing her lips almost forcefully into his, so much so that Sam had to press against her just to keep from falling out of his seat, though her surprise assault on his mouth had almost done that anyways. Their lips connected in ways that Sam had only thought about before, her lips latched onto his upper lip and began to pull hard on him, desiring for him to return the kiss. At least, that's what he thought. But before he could reach up to the back of Ainsley's neck and pull her closer, she broke away. He opened his eyes.

Ainsley's face was the color of ripe tomatoes, but she was smiling, and that was a good sign.

"Not if it meant not getting to do that again," Ainsley whispered. "But we should talk about-,"

"I know," Sam answered quickly. He knew they needed to have that talk, it's not like they could just kiss and not have that conversation, they were adults, not children in the schoolyard. But he would be lying if he said he wasn't nervous to have that talk. He didn't want to break her heart, but he didn't want her to feel like she had to be…faithful to him either. She was an independent, strong-willed woman, and she could do what she wanted, Sam knew he had no right to tie her down.

Sam leaned in and let his hand fall on top of hers reassuringly.

"Ainsley, I don't exactly want to make…," Sam paused trying to find the correct words to continue, "whatever this is…," he motioned to the space between them, "necessarily public yet…I think it's best if you and I figure out what this is first, quietly, before we take any big steps."

Her eyes suspiciously looked him over. "And what would your definition of big steps include?"

Sam blushed as he found himself caught in her linguistic trap. "Well…you know…just…the usual stuff that couples do."

"Oh so we're a couple now," Ainsley teased.

"No that's not what I meant, I just was explaining-,"

Ainsley flipped her hand around to grip his tightly. "Sam, relax. I'm kidding. And I agree. Lets keep this…casual, for now. At least until the correspondent's dinner."

"Okay," Sam agreed, glad she felt the same way he did. He knew he liked her, a lot, but he wanted to give her time to figure things out. And who knows, they might end up just being friends. Friends who... kissed each other... occasionally.

"Okay," Ainsley said as she got up from her chair and leaned down to kiss him on the cheek. Sam felt the skin burn as she blessed him with her touch again. God, she was an angel.

"Call me tonight?" She asked looking down at him.

Sam stuttered. "Uh, I don't know I might be here kind of late."

"Please?" She requested. "I just want to hear your voice."

Sam smiled up at her, now with a little more confidence. How a woman could change things. "Okay, I will."

She smiled back at him. "You know how I don't like to be kept waiting."

Sam chuckled. "Well then you better get going."

She giggled, turned and walked away. Sam didn't take his eyes off of her until she left the building.


	26. Unforseen Complications

**A/N: Thanks to all of you who have continued to read! Hope you enjoy this chapter!**

 **Washington D.C.**

 **The West Wing**

The correspondent's dinner seemed to be creeping up on Sam quickly. The target date had almost arrived and had Sam not been so wrapped up in Ainsley recently, he would have started writing the President's jokes two weeks ago. But of course he hadn't. Sam had actually been busy outside of the White House for once in his life. Busy spending long nights with Ainsley cuddling on his couch while they watched movies or dancing in his kitchen while they cooked a nice dinner. He loved just sitting next to her, or holding her hand during a scary movie, or even debating the constitutionality of whatever the Bartlet administration was trying to sneak into Congress. It was like Sam found himself when he was with her.

Of course, as they had agreed they were taking it slow. So painfully slow in fact that they hadn't had sex yet. And Sam wanted too, God he wanted too so badly. When she was wrapped in a blanket in his arms and the lights were off in his apartment, Sam desperately felt the need to kiss her until she couldn't breathe. To roll her underneath him on his couch and slowly yet urgently remove every single piece of clothing she wore until she was begging him to make love to her. He couldn't help but have those desires, but, being raised a gentleman, Sam never did anything too forward.

Once, while they were taking a mid-afternoon stroll through Williamson Park on a lazy Sunday, Sam had been pushed into her by a man the size of a linebacker who had appeared to have been running from the police. As Sam fell into Ainsley, his hand grasped at one of her luscious boobs instinctively, which she yelped at and he quickly apologized, even though she said he didn't need to worry. That however, that public incident was the closest they had gotten to touching each other like that. They had kissed a lot, now it seemed like they had been kissing their entire lives, yet they had laid out ground rules.

Ground Rule #1.) No kissing for more then ten seconds. This one was Sam's idea, an idea he quickly came to hate himself for. He had feared that if they became too wrapped up in the heat of the moment one night, well, they would become wrapped up.

Ground Rule #2.) No PDA in the West Wing. That meant no touching, not even a handshake. Ainsley's idea, which Sam agreed with. Besides the fact that they both didn't want their coworkers to know about their little…relationship yet, Sam knew that they couldn't act too comfortable in the presence of other people. One might become suspicious.

There were a few other rules as well, but none that were as important to their mostly friendly relationship as the first two. And with a little luck and a lot of self-control, neither Ainsley or Sam had broken those rules. But now the correspondent's dinner deadline was approaching, and after that, Sam knew they would either have to have a serious talk, or end it. Which is one reason why when he walked into his office today he screamed in shock.

"Hello, Sam. I take it Toby didn't tell you I would be here?"

Sam stood frozen to the spot at the sight of his ex-fiancé standing behind his desk like she owned the place. What the hell was she doing here?

Sam stared back at her and held up his index finger. "Uh, give me, just…one minute." And then he shut his office door and whirled around the corner three feet into Toby's office, shutting his door closed and taking the older staffer by surprise.

Toby was sitting at his desk chewing gum and throwing his stress ball up in the air.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," Toby said plainly as he threw the stress ball up in the air again.

Sam stared back at the man absurdly. "Why didn't you tell me that my ex-fiancé was going to be in my office today?"

"I feel like that's more a question for Ginger, but just as a heads-up, your ex-fiancé is going to be in your office today," Toby said without any change in emotional state.

Sam threw both of his hands up in the air. "Gee, thanks Toby! Maybe you can give me a **_heads-up_ ** on why she's here right now and not 3,000 miles away!"

Toby spit out the gum he had been chewing into the small trash can next to his desk and continued. "She's working for Politico now, doing a piece on speechwriting for the President."

The frustration in Sam had built up to an almost dangerous level. He was almost positive that his ex-fiancé could hear him yelling at Toby through the thin office wall.

"Well why isn't she talking to you, or anybody else on speechwriting staff?" Sam demanded.

Toby got up suddenly and waved his arms around like he did when he was angry. "Because Sam, for the past three days, I've been drafting the President's speech for the correspondent's dinner along with the speechwriting staff while you've been off doing whatever you've been doing. Enjoying whatever free time you think you have I suppose! So, since I've already done 75% of the work, you get to be the one interviewed by your ex-fiancé, since apparently you have the time!"

Sam took a deep breath. "I'm sorry if I haven't been able to devote all of my time to you Toby, but lately-,"

"You're not devoting your time to me!" Toby shouted. "Your time is devoted to the President, as it has been since you started working on his campaign! Now get back in your office and answer your ex-fiancé's questions so you can actually begin to help me draft the speech."

Sam knew Toby was right, but he couldn't admit that to him, not while he was still angry with him. Sam stormed out of Toby's office and back into his own and shut the door.

"Hi Lisa," Sam said more calmly as he moved around her to sit down at his desk.

"Hi Sam," Lisa Sherborne said mockingly, "I take it I caused some trouble."

"It's fine," Sam answered motioning for her to take a seat in front of his desk. She did.

"Really? Because, I can go if you want me-,"

"No," Sam said cutting her off. "We both know that's not true. Toby told me you're working for Politico now. That's great, though I never took you for one who was interested in politics."

It was a dis on her, and she knew it, but she continued smiling anyways.

"I'm a reporter Sam," Lisa said firmly, "If that doesn't cry public service to you then you might want to try doing CJ's job sometime."

He smirked back at her. "So you need an interview with a speechwriter."

"Yes, and Toby's informed me that you're the only one available," Lisa answered devilishly.

He was going to kill Toby. "It seems that way," Sam said while grinding his teeth. "Do you know how long this is going to take because I've got-,"

"Oh, no, Sam," Lisa said consecutively, "I can't do it now, I've got an appointment at the Capitol in fifteen minutes, I'm just dropping by to let you know I can do dinner tonight."

This was not good, but Sam kept up his fake grin. "Dinner?"

"For the interview," Lisa clarified. "I think I can get it done in one sitting, plus, I'll be around Washington for a while so it would be nice if you pointed out a good restaurant to eat at."

"You want me to take you out to dinner?" Sam questioned, heavily suspicious of his ex-fiancé's true intentions. "For the interview? After nearly two years of not speaking to one another?"

Lisa Sherborne glanced at her watch and stood up from her seat in front of his desk, grabbing hold of her purse as she did. "Seven o'clock tonight, pick me up at the Marriot in Georgetown. I'll see you then." And with an evil smile, Sam's old flame left his office and presumably the building. For a second he almost thought about calling Secret Service and having them apprehend her on the way out, just for suddenly coming into his life for no reason whatsoever. He knew he couldn't do that, even though she was acting completely ridiculous.

Who was she to walk into his office and demand that he take her out to din…oh shit. That thought reminded him of another fiercely independent woman who had done the exact same thing just a few weeks ago. Ainsley was not going to like this one bit. Maybe he shouldn't tell her, maybe it would be best to just keep this small get together to himself for now. Yeah, he thought, that's what he'll do. It's just one night, one dinner, he could hide that from her. It would be fine, everything would be fine.


	27. Desire

**A/N: Yes, this chapter is very short, but I felt like I had to devote another chapter to Ainsley's thoughts. Enjoy :)**

 **Washington D.C.**

 **Ainsley Hayes' Apartment**

Everything was certainly not fine. Not the way it was right now. Ainsley knew she had set a sort of ultimatum by mentioning the correspondent's dinner in the Library of Congress but she never meant that they had to remain plutonic until then. Not that she and Sam were necessarily plutonic, the kissing had been great, even if it was limited to ten seconds. The hand-holding, cuddling, hugging, laying her head on his chest, him breathing in her hair like it was a drug, all those things were amazingly great on their own, but Ainsley yearned for more. So much more.

She had slept alone so many nights after coming back from his apartment not being able to say a proper goodbye and wishing he was in her bed with her. Ainsley couldn't believe how she had resisted her primal desires to have sex with him for this long already. She knew sex wasn't the ultimate end-all, take-all in a relationship, but it did hold a certain concrete intimacy that she needed to feel. And she needed to feel it from Sam Seaborn.

He was so good to her, so extraordinarily good to her, and she felt bad for lusting for him so hard. He had never tried to make an advance on her, to break their ground rules. He was almost saint-like, except for the whole Democrat thing.

That part scared her, mostly because she needed him to need her as much as she needed him. Ainsley had tried to deny it, but she was falling for him, damn hard too. And that sucked. To be on the edge of everything and not be able to fall.

Every time she kissed him, felt his lips grace hers with their kindness, she died a little from not being able to hold them there eternally. From the fear of knowing that it had to end.

She supposed that's what it was that led her to be so high strung recently. Maybe she was dreading the correspondent's dinner, maybe she was afraid that the amazing, otherworldly connection that existed between them would end on that night.

But she couldn't think about the possibilities right now. They would only worry her. Right now she wanted to think about what they were and what was. That thought brought a smile to Ainsley's face as she drifted into unconsciousness, ready for whatever the next day had in store for her.


	28. The Truth

**A/N: It's been a few days but this one picks up right after Sam agrees to take his ex-fiancé out for dinner, so hopefully that'll ring some bells :) Enjoy!**

 **Washington D.C.**

 **7:21 pm**

"Sam."

Sam looked up from his cold chicken marsala, not realizing he had been zoning out, again.

"Sorry," he said quickly, "what was the question?"

His ex-fiancé gave him the same glare Sam had gotten the day he had told her he was joining a cross country campaign for national office.

"How many drafts of the State of the Union do you go through before final edits are made by the President?" Lisa asked, holding a notepad and pen in her hands.

Sam sipped his wine and felt the alcohol leave a burning trail down his throat. "I don't write drafts, I write one draft, which eventually gets turned into the speech you hear on CSPAN two months later."

"Okay, first thing," Lisa began, "unless you want to sound like Washington's most whiny bitch in my article, I would suggest you drop the attitude." Sam scoffed. He couldn't believe he was here right now. Having dinner with his ex fiancé while simultaneously daydreaming about being with Ainsley. Lisa continued. "Secondly, you can't expect anyone to believe that you only write one draft."

"Good thing my career isn't based on the value of being truthful then," Sam answered. Lisa waited for him to continue. "And yes, I do write one draft. Which then gets edited by Toby, re-edited by yours truly, and then the President adds his final edits a week before the actual speech."

"And what if something happens in that week that compromises the speech?"

Sam sighed. He knew that scenario all too well. "Then we change the speech. The President, Toby and I usually sit down two hours before we go live and make final, final edits."

"How many 'final' edits are there?" Lisa inquired as she scribbled down furiously on her notepad.

"About thirty," Sam answered without hesitation.

His ex-fiancé looked up at him in bewilderment. "You're insanely dedicated."

"And clinically psychotic," Sam joked, though he was sure about everyone else in Washington believed it. "But I suppose you are well associated with my demons," he added under his breath.

Lisa heard him, hell, maybe he had wanted her to hear him. She leaned forward across the table. "Sam, how many times am I going to have to tell you that you were not 100% at fault for why our engagement failed. I messed up a few things myself."

"Music to my ears," Sam said sarcastically.

His ex-fiancé suddenly reached her hand across the table and planted it on top of his. Sam tried to draw away, but as she had done a few times during their relationship, she had trapped him with her eyes.

"Sam," she breathed, "You can't shut me out after tonight. I'm a reporter now working in the news capitol of the country. I'm living and breathing in the same smoggy air that you are. We're bound to run into each other now and then, so, I'm willing to mend fences…if you are."

Goddamnit. Of course she would try something like this. Of course this dinner was more than just an interview. Of course she would waltz back into his life just as things were getting good.

Sam took a deep breath. And then another. And then spoke hesitantly. "Lisa, we made a mistake, but we recognized that we didn't work. I thought we came to an understanding when I left California."

"We did," Lisa replied calmly, her hand still lying on top of his. "But now it's different. I'm different, you're different, the location is different. I mean…can you think of any reason why we shouldn't just try something new?"

Something new. Yeah, Sam knew a little about that concept. He thought about how ever since the attacks in Los Angeles, everything seemed new to him. Work, home, his friends, his family, Ainsley. She had even gotten parts of his personality to come out, parts he didn't even know existed. She made him the person he was today.

"There's someone else, isn't there?" His ex-lovers voice broke apart his thoughts and brought him back to the present.

Sam saw no point in denying it, especially if it helped get him out of the shitstorm that was this conversation. "Yes, Lisa. But even if there wasn't…,"

Lisa's hand drew back off of his, finally allowing him to breathe again. Sam withdrew both his hands from the table, just to be safe.

"Who is she?"

Sam looked up. There was a blizzard in her eyes. One he had seen before.

"Lisa-,"

"Oh, don't give me that 'Lisa' crap," she interrupted. "I'm not going to take a baseball bat to her knees, I just want to know who she is."

"So you can judge me," Sam retorted.

"So I can judge her," Lisa corrected.

Fine. She could judge Ainsley if she wanted to. But she would only see how much better of a person she was than the woman he left in California.

Sam sighed and stared at the woman he once had loved. "Her name is Ainsley. Ainsley Hayes."

Lisa shifted in her seat and nodded. "Do you love her?"

The question caught Sam so off guard he wasn't sure he was even still speaking to his ex-fiancé.

"Excuse me?" he asked, pretending to be more offended than he actually was.

Lisa leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms. "I just want to know if you love her. I want to make sure you think it's real between you and this Ainsley girl before you push me away, because Sam, if you do push me away again, I'm not coming back."

Sam knew she was serious. But so was he.


	29. Taking Risks

**A/N: We're getting so close to the end :) Stay tuned for more, very, very soon.**

 **Washington D.C.**

 **The West Wing**

"And as you can see by last year's data, the subsidies received statewide did not accurately reflect output growth for the sector."

Ainsley snapped out of her dazed stupor and looked attentively back at the row of suited men sitting across from her at the large oak table in the Roosevelt Room. It had been a slow day at the White House and because the President and 85% of his entourage were in Brussels attending a climate summit, Ainsley had been tasked with hearing the WCFFU's (West Coast Federal Farmer's Union) complaints. Even though she had very little connection to White House policy, and absolutely zero connection to the agriculture industry, she was here. And dear God was it boring.

Now she knew why Josh had asked her to do this. Ainsley would bet fifty bucks this was his usual gig. But no, he just had to accompany the President to Brussels. Why did she never get to go on international trips? Oh yeah, that's right, because she was a Republican in a Democratic White House, and the hazing almost never ended. Well, that and she wasn't a high ranking staffer or a member of the press corp.

Ainsley apologized and tried to move on while sneaking a glance at the clock wondering when this meeting would finally be over.

"So the conclusion you have come to based on that data is?" Ainsley asked looking at the large man sitting across from her that she thought had been speaking.

The large man shot his colleagues a look and then glared at Ainsley. "That was the conclusion."

Ainsley rubbed her forehead and pretended to be distracted by the 'notes' she had been taking. In reality, her 'notes' were just little scribbles of teddy bears and stick figures. She had never been much of an artist, but if this meeting lasted for more than another hour, she could become the next Van Gogh.

"I'm sorry," Ainsley said quickly, truly not meaning to offend the union members, "but which state were we talking about?"

Ainsley watched the union leaders frown and just as she was about to apologize again, one of the doors to the Roosevelt Room opened behind her and she turned around in her chair.

"Hey Ainsley," Sam said nervously, "I need to borrow you for a second." He then looked up at the four already angry union farmers. "Sorry fellas."

Ainsley looked back to the large man whose name she had already forgotten. "I'm sure it'll be just one minute."

"We'll be here," the large man replied dryly. Ainsley gave her best fake smile and got up out of her chair quickly to meet her man in the hallway outside the room. He smiled at her as she walked outside and shut the door behind them. The hallway was eerily quiet today.

"Hey," Ainsley said flirtatiously, glad that he had come to save the day again, though this time the situation was obviously not as critical. Terribly boring, but not critical. "I'm glad you came I was-,"

Sam placed both of his hands on her shoulders delicately and looked down into her eyes like he would a child whose favorite pet had just died. He took a deep breath and then spoke. "I had dinner with my ex-fiancé last night."

Though a million questions circled around in her mind, the only thing Ainsley could manage to say was a meager "oh."

Sam sighed and took his hands off her shoulders. Why did he have to take them off? She liked them there, she wanted to be comforted, not pushed away. Was he pushing her away?

"Ainsley, I thought about not telling you. And I know that makes me a terrible person, but I just thought that if you didn't know then nothing would come of it. But it doesn't matter now because I couldn't not tell you. I felt worse about it knowing that you didn't know. But now you do know, because I'm telling you."

Ainsley recognized Sam's speech patterns. He was truly nervous about this conversation. She could always tell when Sam was anxious or nervous about something because he always ended up repeating things just using different words. She had no idea how he had ever become a speech writer for the President.

"Do you feel better now?" Was all Ainsley could muster up to say. Should she be angry? Did he expect her to be angry?

Sam let his shoulders relax. "A little. You haven't exactly said anything about it yet."

Ainsley had never been good with these types of conversations. Her wit and subtle seductiveness had exited stage right. "I guess I just don't know what to say..." she answered.

"Well…say something. Anything," Sam pleaded.

Ainsley took and deep breath. "You didn't sleep with her did you?"

Sam shook his head a thousand times. "No. Nothing like that. I mean we have before, you know, in the past, when we were engaged, before you and I were-,"

Ainsley put up a hand to stop him. "I picked up on that when you mentioned she was your ex. Do you have dinner with all your ex's or just the ones you were with seriously?"

He shot her a dirty look, but she had meant it as a joke. Apparently the ever comedic Sam Seaborn did not find this situation humorous at all. Neither did she, but she couldn't help but be easygoing around him.

"She's working for Politico now," he explained. "Doing a piece on speechwriting for the President, and Toby saw fit to set her up with me, because apparently I work with a gaggle of people who want to watch me dissipate under my ex-fiancé's closeted cruelty."

Ainsley smiled. "Gaggle, Sam?"

She saw a small smile creep up on his face and he checked his watch. "I'm expecting a call from Josh, I've got to go, but we should-,"

Ainsley leaned forward into him, placed both her hands on his chest and kissed him so quickly if someone walking by had blinked they would have missed it entirely. When she withdrew her lips from his he had the blankest expression on his face.

"Rule number two?" he asked quietly.

"Oh calm down it's not like we violated the Constitution. Besides, I've never broken a rule as strict as that one before and it felt kind of good," Ainsley smirked.

He grinned back at her before turning around and walking away.

Ainsley reentered the Roosevelt Room with a newfound consciousness and sat back down at the oak table smiling at the still frowning union leaders.

"I apologize for the interruption," Ainsley said calmly. "Now, how much taxpayer money do you want this year?"


	30. Angel in the Outfield

**A/N: I don't really know how to describe this chapter, just that it's one of my favorites because Leo is honestly the best character in the entire series and flirty Ainsley is so hot. I'm sure Sam thinks the same thing! Enjoy :)**

 **New Hampshire**

 **Bartlet Family Ranch**

Six days until the correspondent's dinner. Six days until Ainsley's and his deadline. Six short periods of twenty-four hours until they would confront one another about what they were and maybe what Sam wanted them to be. He just hoped she felt the same way.

Regardless, Sam was trying his best to keep all of that in the back of his mind for now. He had to stay focused on finishing the President's speech for that night. And of course, writing a formal endorsement for the President's son in law, who was the reason Sam and the President were in New Hampshire.

It was a relatively small group of staffers who had been requested by the President on this trip, which was unusual, but not completely unexpected. What was unexpected was that, for whatever reason, Leo had informed Sam that the President had requested that Ainsley come on the trip as well. This wasn't a bad thing, in fact Sam loved that she had come, but there was something fishy about an associate White House counsel being requested by the President on a ceremonial two-day trip to his home state.

Today was day one of the trip, and luckily Sam had slept quite nicely in a cozy bed of one of the twelve guest rooms that were found on the Bartlet family ranch. Now it was nearly ten am and Sam was just beginning to type up some jokes he had thought of in his dreams.

There was a light knock on the door and Sam set his glasses on the side table before answering. "Come in."

The door opened and in walked the White House Chief of Staff, wearing blue jeans, a patterned dress shirt, and a dark blazer. Not nearly as fancy as the five thousand dollar suits he normally wore.

"Morning Sam," Leo said gleefully.

"Good morning to you too," Sam answered. "I was just writing some jokes I dreamt up, I think I can have the speech completely done and edited by tomorrow."

Leo gave him a curious look. "You dreamt about jokes?"

"Yeah," Sam said quickly, "I have this really good one, I think it'll just about knock everybody's socks off."

Leo grinned and threw a baseball glove onto Sam's bed. Sam picked it up and looked back to Leo.

"Come on," Leo motioned out the door. "Been a long time since I've played catch."

It had been a long time since Sam had too. Yet five minutes later he and Leo were out in the middle of a grassy field on the Midwestern style ranch throwing the old baseball back and forth like they had been doing it their whole lives.

Sam extended his arm up above his head to catch Leo's next pitch. The ball connected with his dusty old glove so hard that Sam would learn later it had left a purple welt on his palm.

"Jesus Leo," Sam said painfully, "you throw a mean ball." Sam threw the baseball back a bit harder, hoping to impress the old guy.

Leo caught it easily. "I played when I was a kid. Guess it's all just…coming back to me."

He threw it back to Sam and he instinctively planted his feet firmly in the soil to catch it. He did and took a moment to pause and listen to the sounds of the countryside. Days like this were just…perfect.

Sam spun the ball in his hand a few times before throwing it back to his mentor. "You think Doug's actually got a chance in the district?"

Without hesitation Leo threw the ball back. "With the President's endorsement I think he has a chance. A very, very small chance. Baker's been in the seat for fourteen years. People like him."

The baseball hit Sam's glove but dropped out before he could clamp down on it. He bent down to pick it up out of the grass as he spoke.

"There's one quality Doug doesn't quite have," Sam said. "Likeability."

Leo caught the ball and it made a loud *oomph* sound when it hit his glove. "You're telling me."

Leo popped a fly ball and Sam had to move from his position to catch it. He did. "Can I be frank?"

Leo looked at him encouragingly. "When are you not?"

Sam chuckled and looked down at the ground before pulling his arm back and pitching the ball to Leo like he had seen Major League players do. Leo caught the speed ball perfectly, not moving an inch.

"Does the President even like Doug?" Sam asked, genuinely curious.

Leo chuckled. "He's not as big a fan of him as his daughter is."

Sam caught Leo's speed ball just as perfectly. He was getting better at this. "So…why are we here then? I mean, couldn't the President just as easily have given an endorsement from Washington?"

Sam threw the ball back. Again, Leo caught it and responded wisely. "He needed some time off from the White House. The First Lady agreed. We took the opportunity as political cover for a short vacation."

Sam grinned. He agreed too. "Well, a vacation with national security briefings at nine, breakfast at ten, and economic policy briefings at eleven."

"Did you miss the memo? Economic policy briefings are at ten-thirty," Leo joked as he threw the ball back.

Sam caught it and just as he pulled his arm back, a voice from behind him stopped his action.

"You guys reenacting Sandlot without me?"

Sam turned around to see Ainsley walking towards them in blue jeans and an official 'White House' sweatshirt, something she must've picked up on Air Force One. She approached Sam and smiled warmly at him choosing to stand close to him, maybe a bit too close.

"Good morning Ainsley," Leo said as he walked up to the two of them. "Enjoying your time on La Casa de Bartlet so far?"

"Yes I am Leo and thank you for asking," she replied kindly. "It was extremely nice of you to ask me to join the staff on this trip. I was starting to get tired of hearing Oliver scold me on the difference between White House policy point 37A subsection 2 and point 26B subsection 4."

Sam looked confusingly between his mentor and his…whatever she was to him. He focused on Leo. "You were the one who asked her?"

Leo looked back at him plainly. "Of course I was. I ask all the staff."

"I know that I was just wondering why-,"

"Why she's here?" Leo finished for him.

Sam nodded and heard Ainsley chuckle next to him. Leo grinned, slipped his hands in his pockets and looked down at the grass before looking back up to meet Sam's question.

"I just thought she needed to get out of the building is all," Leo replied. Sam couldn't tell if he was serious or not. Leo handed his glove to Ainsley, she took it, but didn't put it on. Leo slapped Sam on the arm lightly and brushed past the two of them, heading back for the main house.

"President will want to meet with us at noon," he shouted. "Ainsley, make sure he doesn't throw his arm out."

"Will do Sir," Ainsley shouted as Sam turned to face her.

"Something going on between you two I should know about?" Sam asked a moment later, somewhat suspicious of Leo's vague and cryptic answer to his previous question.

"Whyyy," Ainsley teased. She then dropped the baseball glove and ran her hands down his arms as if she was patting him down for weapons. "Are you the jealous type?"

Sam smirked and admired Ainsley's dazzling face. He never got tired of staring at her beauty. "Only when it comes to Republicans," he joked.

Ainsley looked behind her, Sam assumed she was checking to see if there was anyone around, but Leo had already disappeared from the field and now it was just the two of them. When she looked back to him, he was already leaning down to meet her lips with his. She laced her arms around his neck and in response he curled his fingers on her small hips, holding her as close to him as she allowed.

She began to moan into the kiss and Sam shuddered underneath her touch. She moaned again and he gripped her hips tighter, pulling her further into their passionate kiss. If this wasn't perfect, Sam didn't know what was. She moaned again and Sam suddenly realized what she was actually doing. He broke the kiss and looked down at her ready to apologize for his forwardness.

"Eleven," she breathed up into him. "We should really think about passing an amendment to extend that rule…,"

Sam rolled his tongue over his lips in happiness that she would suggest such an amazing idea. "That's going to require a two-thirds vote."

Ainsley unhooked her arms from around Sam's neck and moved her hands slowly and seductively down his back, just how he liked. "Well there's two of us in this little Congress…and I have a strong feeling you'll vote aye."

"Your forgetting that I'm a Democrat," Sam said softly as he pulled her hips in to meet his. "And you…you are a Republican," as soon as he finished the 'can' in Republican Sam moved his hands around her waist to just above her ass and began to play with the belt loops on her jeans. "If that doesn't spell gridlock to you..."

Ainsley pinched his back when he tried to move one of his hands down to her ass. Sam flinched and raised an eyebrow at her. "I'm sure we can find middle-ground," she said sensually.

Sam smirked back at her. "Middle-ground?"

"Yes Sam, middle ground. I give you something…," Ainsley removed her hands from his back and placed them on his hands which were lingering above her ass. She then pulled them down roughly so that he was now firmly grasping her ass in his hands. He groaned pure desire as she spoke. "You give me something."

Just as Sam was about to melt completely under her sudden sexual prowess, she dropped his hands and took a step backwards. He looked lustfully into her deep blue eyes. The eyes that had frozen him before now set his entire body aflame.

"I really, really like you," he whispered, unaware that his voice had been stolen by her soulful stare.

Ainsley leaned up and kissed him on the cheek. He savored the smell of her perfume on his skin.

"See?" Ainsley asked facetiously leaning back down off her toes. "We can pass that amendment no problem."

Sam smiled, he never wanted to not smile at her. She was quickly becoming his favorite person in the entire world. His favorite girl. His only girl.


	31. The Correspondents' Dinner

**A/N: Okay, favorite chapter, hands down. I really have enjoyed writing this story for every one of you who has read it and especially for those who leave reviews :P That said, there'll be two more chapters after this one, so stay tuned for the conclusion!**

 **Washington D.C.**

 **The Washington Hilton Hotel**

The afterparty. The one event that most Americans only read about the night of the Oscars, when every celebrity with a round rump or the face of a Greek god got together to literately drink their way through their achievements while wearing eight thousand-dollar silk dresses and spicy Armani suits. The annual White House Correspondent's Dinner wasn't that different, except that the guests were mostly reporters whose meager salaries couldn't afford Gucci dress wear and there wasn't a plethora of bodacious Hollywood superstars. Come to think of it, the Correspondent's Dinner was nothing like the Oscars afterparty. That said, Sam still thought there was fun to be had tonight.

Luckily, the thirty-seven-minute speech that Sam had finished in New Hampshire had gone over well, almost too well. The President had hardly gone a minute without being interrupted by the mixed laughs of journalists, foreign ambassadors, White House staff, and whoever the hell else showed up to these events. It was like they had fit all of D.C. into the ritzy hotel just to hear him speak, but now a fair amount of the attendees had cleared out. Well, more like rushed out by Secret Service. One reason that there were never any news stories of drunk government officials at the President's afterparties was that any and all people who had a vested interest in financial gain off of what Vegas-style events occurred within the President's company were escorted out of the building after the cameras had been turned off.

Even though the cameras were off, the music had not yet receded and thus there was still a large number of people in the ballroom doing a mix of dancing, drinking, and determining national policy issues. Your typical Washington D.C. party.

Sam had been too one to many of these and he was beginning to think about leaving. Although this evening was going well, it had a relatively dark backdrop. The President had undergone emergency treatment for another MS attack two days prior and as such, Ainsley had been held back by Babish this evening to work. The White House was being sued. Well, the administration was being sued but either way, the Counsel's office was swamped with work. And that sucked. It sucked hard. Sam had been looking forward to spending the lighthearted evening with his lighthearted girl, but fate had intervened.

On the other hand, Sam thought as he sipped his champagne and stood in the corner of the grand ballroom, their deadline had been pushed back, so his anxiety about what this night held for the future of his happiness had taken a hike. Thank God. But he still wanted to see her. Badly.

"Ah! Samuel Nicholas Seaborn!"

Sam turned around to face the man whose voice he could pick out amongst a sea of Englishmen.

He smiled warmly at the approaching ambassador. "Nicholas isn't my middle name Lord Marbury, but I suppose two out of three is good enough for a man of your stature."

Lord John Marbury, the British ambassador to the United States, and a close friend of Abbey Bartlet's drunkenly walked up to where Sam stood and extended his hand. Sam shook it firmly; afraid the old fellow might fall over.

"Is it not?" Lord Marbury said, apparently dumbfounded. "My mistake, you just write so much like an Englishman. Speaking of your writing, I thought I might offer my personal congratulations to you on the President's speech tonight. It was thoroughly entertaining."

Before Sam could even finish saying a simple thank you, the British ambassador continued to ramble on, with no end in sight. Sam was beginning to understand why Leo wasn't this guy's biggest fan.

"I found myself bursting out in laughter more than a few times," Lord Marbury said speaking loudly enough for the music to drown out in the background. "I really did enjoy the one about the Queen, even if I am her loyal servant. You know Samuel, even us worker bees must find the occasional release. Which is why I was wondering if you happen to know the name of the alluring red-headed enchantress who sat-,"

Thankfully, Sam was rescued from having to answer that question by yet another alluring enchantress whom he knew would quickly distract the Lord from his inquiry.

"John Marbury, how good to see you," Abbey Bartlet said walking up to Sam and the ambassador. She leaned up to meet the tall man for a cheek kiss and he held her hands as they exchanged greetings.

"Always wonderful to see you as well Abigail," Lord Marbury replied. "I trust Jed isn't serious about that joke he made tonight…you know the one about your marital affairs."

"Of course he isn't John," the First Lady answered. "But that joke in particular was run by both the President and I at least five times and I'll tell you, there were more accurate drafts that Sam could have gone with."

Lord Marbury grinned and Mrs. Bartlet turned to face Sam. "I have to say Sam, that was an excellent string of jokes. You should have considered a career in comedy."

Sam blushed slightly at her words. "Oh no ma'am. I'm perfectly content right where I am."

"Well congratulations," Mrs. Bartlet said, then looking back to the British Lord. "I however, could use one more dance to end this dazzling night. John?"

Sam watched Lord Marbury's face lite up as he took her arm. He looked back to Sam and nodded one last time. Sam smiled warmly and watched the two friends walk out into the center of the dancefloor at the song change. He took another sip of his champagne reluctantly. Oh how he envied them.

They weren't lovers certainly, or even romantically involved. But at least they had one another, if only for a dance. Sam didn't even have that. All he had was a glass of champagne that tasted way less expensive than it actually was and a rented tux that was beginning to smell like the hors d'oeuvres.

A beer appeared in front of Sam's chest and he looked over at the man who was offering the liquid savior.

"Champagne is awful," Charlie said extending the beer out to Sam. He took it and watched Charlie take a bottle opener out of one pocket and another beer out of the other. He cracked both their beers open with a certain finesse.

"Where'd you find these?" Sam asked shaking the bottle and looking back at his young friend.

"Where do you think?" Charlie asked rhetorically looking out on the dance floor.

Sam grinned and copied the man's gaze on the remaining guests.

"That was a good speech tonight," Charlie said after a moment of silence.

Sam lowered the beer from his mouth. "Thanks. I thought you'd be at the Residence by now."

"Nah," Charlie answered, "Zoe's still here, dancing with some Duke from Sweden whose almost twice her age. I'm keeping an eye on her."

Sam almost chuckled at the man's jealousy but knew if Ainsley was out there dancing with Swedish royalty he would be doing the exact same thing. Instead he settled on trying to calm Charlie's nerves instead. "Sweden has Dukes?" Sam asked.

"Honestly I couldn't care less, but the guy's six inches taller than me and spends his spare time flying across the African continent dropping care packages off for impoverished children," Charlie answered plainly.

"So you did your research," Sam replied taking another sip of the cold beer.

"So I did my research."

Another few seconds passed by.

"So how come Ainsley isn't here tonight?" Charlie asked suddenly.

Sam sighed, once again brought back to the suckness of his situation.

"She's working with-," Sam stopped abruptly and shot Charlie a look of confusion. He simply kept staring out at the dance floor of the ballroom.

"Why are you asking me?"

Charlie took a swig of the beer and cleared his throat. "Well you're sleeping together aren't you?"

"No!" Sam almost shouted and Charlie raised his hands in defense. "No…we're not sleeping together," Sam continued. "I mean…we're not…no. No. We're friends. Good friends. Wait…how many people think we're sleeping together?"

Charlie trained his eyebrows on Sam suspiciously but answered truthfully. "Uh, pretty much the entire office."

Sam stared blankly back at his friend. "You're joking."

Charlie simply shook his head. "Including myself, there's also CJ, Donna, Josh, Toby, Leo, Margaret, Carol, Will Bailey, Ed and Larry-,"

"Ed and Larry know?!" Sam interrogated. "How the hell did this-,"

Sam was interrupted by Charlie shoving his half-finished beer into Sam's open hand.

"Oh he did not just do that." Charlie stormed off onto the dance floor, leaving Sam holding two beers and standing alone in the back of the hotel ballroom. Yeah, it was time to ditch this party and head home. A lonely bed and empty thoughts awaited him. Sam set the half empty bottles of beer down on the table behind him and headed for the exit.

He pushed the double doors open to the lobby and was taken by surprise, though not quite the surprise he wished for.

"Well look who it is, the man of the hour." Sam approached CJ in the center of the vast lobby where she and his other friends were standing conversing amongst themselves.

"I don't mean to be rude but didn't Toby work on that speech just as much as you did Sam?" Donna asked.

"Of course he did, but we all know Toby's sense of humor isn't exactly politically correct," Josh answered before either Sam or Toby could respond. Sam surpassed a laugh and could tell Toby was doing the same.

"Regardless, great job to the both of you," CJ praised, then turning to face Sam. "We were considering the idea of going back to the White House and celebrating without all the lurking reporters, what do you say?"

Sam waved a hand to refuse the offer. "Thanks but I've already got a headache of my own-,"

Josh hit his shoulder in a playful gesture. "C'mon, I promise I won't let Donna get you too drunk."

"Hey!" Donna shouted in protest. Josh looked back at her like he had done nothing wrong and Sam looked down at the floor to hide his smile. Toby caught his bluff.

"Yeah Mr. Comedy," Toby said sarcastically, "not scared of a challenge are you?"

"Never," Sam replied. There was no use in refusing the invitation, not from his closest friends in the world. And certainly not tonight, when he needed something to distract him from the somber mood that had encapsulated him thus far.

CJ smiled and laced her arm through Toby's and they turned to leave the hotel lobby. Donna held out both her arms for both Sam and Josh to take. They looked at each other, shrugged and obliged their blonde companion. The three younger staffers strutted after their older companions, who were already out the front doors and whistling at cabs. Could it be a good night after all?


	32. Stars, Roses and Lovers

**A/N: This is it. The final chapter, sort of. I've had a great time reading all of your reviews and writing this collection. I really hope everyone who has read this story has kept up to this point. Sam and Ainsley truly are perfect opposites. In case you're wondering, there will be an epilogue of sorts which will likely be posted tomorrow. One last time, thank you.**

 **Washington D.C.**

 **The West Wing**

"Oh shut it Josh."

"What? It's the truth!"

Sam joined CJ and Toby in a choir of laughter as he listened to Josh and Donna bicker. They were classic. He was upset that he didn't get to see this side of his friends every night. It was truly heartwarming.

"That doesn't mean you should say it!"

"Alright well who sounds like Leo now?!"

Sam almost fell over backwards in the unstable press chair but Toby caught the back of his chair just in time to keep him from going crashing down in the middle of the dimly lit Brady Press Briefing Room.

Sam collected himself. "Jesus CJ you might want to think about upgrading the furniture," he said as the press secretary gave him an 'oh really' look.

"I'm surprised the correspondents haven't killed you yet," Toby said dryly, "I had a better seat in the first campaign office in New Hampshire."

CJ looked like she was about to kill the both of them, but they were just playing, and she knew that. Teasing each other was how they kept themselves from tearing out each other's throats.

"Didn't you have to sit on the floor in a corner in that office?" Donna asked and Sam nearly spit out the swig of beer he had been swallowing. Toby _had_ been forced to sit on the floor in that first office space.

"Yeah but at least I had a solid wall behind me," Toby replied taking another sip of his beer and exchanging raised eyebrows with CJ. "I think this chair was built by my three-year old nephew…"

"Yeah it's really not doing great things for my back," Josh critiqued. "CJ I think you oughta-,"

"Would everybody just shut up and drink happily to themselves?" CJ asked, obviously pissed off now. "I'll look into replacing the damn chairs if you're all that concerned."

"Relax Ceej," Josh said simply. "But I think we're almost all out of beer."

Sam shook his own bottle and came to the same sad realization that the rest of the group was figuring out.

"Ceej?" CJ prompted as Josh got up from his plastic chair slowly and carefully.

"Nickname I'm trying out," Josh replied simply.

CJ shook her head. "I don't think so, _Joshy._ "

Josh paused and nodded his understanding. He then pointed a finger suddenly at Sam. Sam pointed to himself and raised his eyebrows.

"Yeah, you, c'mon," Josh answered, "I know of a place where we can replenish," he said shaking his empty beer bottle. Sam got the gist and stood up from his seat to follow his friend out of the press room.

As they left, CJ shouted, "Joshua Lyman if you lay a finger on my scotch-,"

"Course not Ceej," Josh shouted back as he closed the door to the press room behind them. He winked at Sam. "Just the whiskey." Sam smirked back at his sly friend. CJ was going to have his head on a pike.

Josh and Sam walked down the familiar halls of the West Wing as they made way for the press secretary's office. Once they had reached the hallway perpendicular to the communications bullpen, Josh took an unexpected right where they should have taken a left. Sam stopped a moment in confusion. Was he really that drunk that he had forgotten where CJ's office was?

Josh had noticed Sam had stopped and turned to face him.

"CJ's office?" Sam asked as Josh walked back to stand within a foot of Sam.

"Yeah we're not going there," Josh answered softly, keeping his voice low as if he was afraid they would be heard.

"Then…where?" Sam inquired.

Josh sidestepped and patted Sam on the back, nudging him forwards as they proceeded down the wrong hallway.

"Just trust me on this one," Josh said keeping his arm around Sam's shoulder.

"Do I have a choice at this point?" Sam asked.

"Not really no."

"Great."

Josh chuckled under his breath and continued to lead Sam towards the…Oval Office? What the hell? Were they going to steal the President's stash of bourbon? Even for Josh, that would be beyond stupid.

"Reminds you of the campaign trail huh?" Josh asked.

"A little too much," Sam answered truthfully.

"And look where we are now!" Josh waved his arms around wildly. Yeah, he definitely had hit his limit. When they got back to the briefing room, Sam would have to remember to ask Donna to take him home.

Sam dropped the conversation and let Josh ramble on about stories from the Bartlet campaign trail as his mind began to wander to where the hell they were going, and how the hell he would get home. Sam wasn't looking forward to sleeping in his office. Though he was fairly certain there was a spare sweater in his desk drawer he could use as a pillow. It wouldn't be the worst nights sleep he has ever gotten.

Josh finally led him to a hallway adjacent to the Oval Office and opened the door to the Rose Garden. A blast of cold air hit him as Josh motioned for him to step outside. Sam looked at his very mysterious friend and stepped past him outside onto the small pathway that ran alongside the Rose Garden.

Sam turned around again to face Josh, who had closed the door, trapping them outside the West Wing in the chilly conditions. The three Marines who stood guard by the Oval at all times stood like gargoyles but didn't pay any attention to the two White House staffers who were sulking around the grounds in the middle of the night.

"Josh what are we-,"

Sam stopped speaking when he realized he didn't have the man's attention. Josh was staring past him, just over his shoulder out towards the greensward and was grinning ear to ear. Sam turned confusingly and slowly back towards the small Rose Garden field of freshly mowed grass.

The lamps adorning the sides of the building shone just enough light that Sam could make out a woman standing in the middle of the garden. He took a few steps down the path to get a better look at the dark figure. Sam got to the edge of the cement walkway and stepped onto the dewed soil cautiously.

The woman took a step closer into the light and Sam's jaw dropped.

"Hi."

Ainsley Hayes stood maybe ten feet from him, yet she had never felt so close. She was glimmering under the starry night sky, though her eyes contained a sparkle of their own. Sam was convinced he must have been silent for days because he was lost in her eyes. He swallowed his ability to speak and admired her as a whole. She was dressed in a shimmering black gown that looked like it had come right out of a Vera Wang runway photoshoot. Her normally straight blonde hair had been curled and lay in front of her bare shoulders, prompting Sam to continue his gaze along her neckline. The dress covered most of her torso and lower body, but her upper body was bare under the moonlight. Cold, he thought. She must be freezing. Jesus, don't sit there and stare all night!

Sam walked slowly towards her, feeling the dampness of the grass on his ankles as he pulled off his tuxedo jacket. She smiled warmly when he got close and whispered out a small 'Hi' in return. She held him captive under her stare, but he quickly remembered why he was holding his jacket in his hand. Sam extended his arm and offered his coat.

"Would you mind?" she asked spinning around to show him her back. The dress was shorter in the back than it was in the front and it ended in a 'V' shape around her lower back. Ainsley held out one of her arms as Sam slipped his coat over her upper body to cover her pale white skin. After she had fully donned his suit jacket, she turned back around to face him.

Sam tried to think of something to say, but even his thoughts were speechless.

Luckily, Ainsley had enough courage to speak for the both of them. Her voice sounded like the sweetest of harmonies to Sam's ears. "Sorry I couldn't make it to the correspondent's dinner tonight," she said. "I know that you had asked me to go with you and I was really looking forward to it, but you know how it goes in our line of work. Babish was having me-,"

Sam shook his head. "I don't care about that." Ainsley looked back up at him in uncertainty.

"You don't?" She asked.

"No," he whispered softly down into her lips. "It's just one…small thing…in a world of…big things."

"Small thing?" Ainsley breathed up into him as she took the last step necessary to close the space between their bodies.

"The dinner," Sam answered. "Not you, never you."

Ainsley smiled at this. "Tell me Sam Seaborn. Tell me what I am…,"

Sam reached up to Ainsley's face and lightly ran his thumb over her cheek as he cupped her face in the palm of his hand.

"You're the biggest thing," Sam answered as he watched fireworks go off in her eyes. "You're everything and anything at the same time. You're the thing I never want to let go of. If you'll take me Ainsley Hayes, I'll be yours forever because you're already mine."

Ainsley found his hand with hers and wiggled her fingers in between his, holding him for warmth and comfort. "Your offer is a bit chauvinistic-,"

"Chauvinistic?" Sam questioned, but recognized the look on her face as anything but serious and allowed himself a moment to relax.

"Yes, chauvinistic, traditional, dominant, patriarchal-,"

"I thought you liked 'tall men'," Sam teased.

"Tall yes," Ainsley answered as she brought his hand up to her chest and held it there. Sam felt her heartbeat through her dress as she looked sensually back up at him. "Dominant maybe, but you know I'm an independent woman Sam and although I prescribe to a particularly more traditional set of beliefs that doesn't make me a 1950's housewife."

Sam brought her hand, which he still held firmly up to his face and softly kissed the skin on her knuckles. Even in the darkness of the night Sam could see Ainsley was blushing extremely hard.

"So what's your answer?" He asked, desperately searching for the words he had both feared and yearned for since the very first time they had locked eyes.

Ainsley smiled widely back up at him. "Yes. My answer is yes. Always yes."

Sam grinned and continued to hold her face in his hand, his fingers tickling the back of her neck. He had gotten what he wanted most tonight. He had gotten her, finally.

"Oh would you just kiss her already!"

Sam turned in shock to see that not only was Josh still standing over on the pathway where he had left him, he was now joined by a familiar group of smiling faces. None other than his closest friends and stalking coworkers, CJ, Donna and Toby. Obviously Toby had gotten fed up with waiting. Impatient bastard.

Sam looked back to Ainsley who was clearly trying to suppress a laugh.

He chuckled and shook his head, coming to the conclusion that this had all been a set up.

"Brought the peanut gallery with you huh?" Sam asked.

"They tend to have some good ideas," Ainsley whispered as she drew closer to his mouth. Sam let his hands fall to her hips as she laced hers around his neck, again interlocking her fingers at the base of his skull, just where he liked them.

Sam chuckled and drew her closer into him until her chest pressed firmly against his. This, he thought, he never wanted to lose this. This was it. Sam lowered his face down to hers and closed his eyes a split second after she closed hers. Their lips met in an explosion of warmth and the kind of slow burning passion that Sam had only heard about from novels and television. Sam kept his lips latched onto hers, he didn't open his mouth, he didn't try to open hers, he just savored the simple feeling of love that he received from her small, soft lips.

After what seemed like an eternity, Sam's ears echoed with shouts of glee and applause from the group of spectators only ten feet away that had taken witness in the entire thing. Sam slowly withdrew from her lips and opened his eyes. He kept his forehead touching hers, as if breaking their touch would shatter everything that he held delicate. Which was only one thing. Only her.

After a moment of heavy breathing from the both of them, Ainsley released her arms from around his neck and found his hands, taking both of them in hers and staring back up at him. Her eyes were bluer than the summer sky on a beach in the Bahamas.

"That wasn't such a bad talk," Sam confessed.

"No," Ainsley answered, unable to contain a smile. "No it wasn't."

Sam glanced up to the night sky. "It's sort of late…,"

Ainsley giggled. "Agreed. I'll take you home…to my place."

Sam raised his eyebrows playfully. " _Ainsley Hayes_."

"Relax," she whispered. "Not tonight. Tonight let's just sleep."

He loved that she knew exactly what he was thinking. They shared something more than a connection, something more than a feeling.

"Okay," Sam whispered while clutching her closely to his chest. "Take me home Ainsley."


	33. Sunday

**A/N: Alright here it is, the epilogue. I'm sorry it's a day late, but hopefully the M rating will make up for that ;) I have loved writing this story and I'm glad so many people got to see it. So here it is. Sam and Ainsley. One last time :) Thank you all for reading.**

 **Washington D.C.**

 **Ainsley Hayes' Apartment**

 **The Following Morning**

Ainsley awoke from a dreamless sleep. She opened her eyes slowly to take in the morning sunlight that peaked through the cracks of her bedroom window blinds. The room was still mostly dark, except for a few rays of sun that streaked across her bed. Ainsley breathed in the stale bedroom air and remembered she had forgotten to open the windows last night on account of a distraction.

Speaking of said distraction, Ainsley rolled her body over to face the man whose arms were still wrapped tightly around her midriff. She loved the feeling of being in his arms, she never wanted him to let go. His eyelids were still closed and his hair was a beautiful mess. Her bedsheets covered most of his body except for his upper torso, which Ainsley could see was still keeping a steady rhythm of breaths. She laid her head down on the pillow next to his and watched him lie dormant. She could stay in this bed forever with him. He brought a new meaning to the words 'waking up'.

Unable to resist from touching him, Ainsley teased her arms around his bare chest and pulled herself closer into him. At this he stirred and his fingers began to twitch on the bare skin of her stomach. Ainsley began to mimic his unconscious actions on his neck, bringing her fingers up to play with his greasy hair. She watched his eyelids rise and his deep baby-blue eyes slowly dilate to the change in light. Ainsley kept her face only a few inches away from his, yearning to be the first thing he saw when he woke up.

"Hey sleepyhead," she whispered.

The corners of Sam's mouth formed a small smile and his voice sounded gentle as he spoke. "Hey gorgeous. What time is it?"

Ainsley turned to reach the bedside table on her side of the bed and checked her alarm clock. She turned back to Sam, who had still not removed his arms from around her.

"Almost 9:30," Ainsley answered. "Do you want breakfast?"

"Not hungry…for that," Sam replied as she felt his hands press more firmly into her back. She knew where he was going, and she wanted it too.

Ainsley rolled herself atop him so that her body lay flat on his, every inch of their non-clothed skin touching. They hadn't slept nude last night, they weren't stupid, and like Ainsley had said, they just slept, no sex. Obviously now it was no longer last night and things were...different.

"I think I know of a way we can work up an appetite," Ainsley answered as she took his face in her hands and pecked his lips once with hers.

"Mmm," Sam mumbled through the kiss, "do you want...are you...,"

Ainsley smiled. Nobody had ever said Sam Seaborn wasn't a gentleman and his bed manners reflected that. She loved that even now he wanted to know if she was okay with it. If she was ready. Even if she hadn't been ready, her libido was already kicking like a wild stallion, and it had been some time since she'd had sex.

"Yesss," Ainsley confirmed as she brought her lips down onto his again, holding them there for much longer than their previous rules would have allowed. Sam's hands traced down the sides of her body and eventually ended up groping her ass, his fingers curling around her cheeks like he was holding onto them for safety. Ainsley broke their kiss to take a deep breath.

"You have such a great-,"

"Personality?" Ainsley interrupted jokingly. Sam laughed into her mouth, holding his head closely to hers as his fingers continued to tap dance on her ass.

She kissed him again, this time forcing open his mouth with her own and letting his tongue come inside of her. Ainsley quickly wrapped her own tongue around his, wanting to feel him, connect with him, be with him.

Having one leg on either side of her man, Ainsley was surprised by the feeling of his desire growing hard underneath her thigh. She giggled like a school girl into the kiss and Sam retracted his tongue from her mouth, keeping both of his hands on her ass.

"Find something funny?" he asked sounding slightly offended.

Ainsley merely giggled again. "Get your pants off…"

Sam winked and threw her off of his body as he stood up from her bed. Having no other clothes to wear, and not wanting to make a trip to his apartment last night, Ainsley had given him a t-shirt and sweatpants to sleep in, a t-shirt which he had quickly discarded. Luckily for Ainsley's self control, he wasn't one to sleep in the nude.

Ainsley propped herself up against the backboard of her bed and watched as Sam blushed, but quickly disrobed. And there he stood, naked and whole. Ainsley bit her lip in lust at the purest sight of him, the purest sight of any man she had ever seen.

"Your turn," Sam replied as he crawled back into her bed. Ainsley suddenly felt very self-conscious. What if he didn't like what he saw? What if…what if he wasn't attracted to her like she was to him? She knew she had a certain attractiveness about her, but she had never been the 'hot one' at any time in her life. She didn't have the bodacious curves that most men wanted. What if Sam was no different? Reluctantly, Ainsley swung her legs over the side of her bed and stood up. She had been planning on wearing a t-shirt as well, but when she saw what Sam had done with his, she had figured it was appropriate to do the same. Thus, she had only worn a bra and sport shorts to bed last night.

"Sam," she breathed, suddenly lacking strength to do anything but stand frozen in her room.

"Yeah?" he asked.

"Come…come do it for me," she pleaded.

Without hesitation, but still slowly, Sam edged his way over to her side of the bed, stood up in front of her, kissed her once on the cheek, and reached around to unclasp her bra. He had it off in a matter of seconds, much faster than most men had been able to figure it out. This turned her on even more. That and knowing he was gasping in awe at her bare breasts.

"You're stunning," he whispered into her neck.

"Shorts…," Ainsley moaned as he pressed her up against the wall. Sam complied, cautiously and delicately taking hold of the elastic waistband and pulling her shorts down until they fell past her thighs and landed in a heap at her feet.

Ainsley watched Sam's eyes do a full inspection of her now nude body, stopping only at her center and her chest to take in the sights. He finally made his way back up to her eyes, where she was desperately seeking his approval.

"No underwear?" he asked playfully.

Ainsley shook her head once and bit her lip again, keeping her eyes in a sexual showdown with his.

Sam smiled as he leaned in against her to kiss her lips and she let him. He began to run his hands over every inch of her nude body and she let him. He twirled her around in his arms and laid her down gently on her bed and she let him.

He lay on top of her, hovering just an inch or two above her chest to avoid crushing her. But Ainsley was done being the bystander now. She took his neck in her hands and lightly scratched at the skin as she worked her tongue inside his mouth once again. Ainsley arched her back upwards to meet the comfort of his muscular chest. She felt his sex brush up against her inner thigh and he recoiled but she needed him badly. Ainsley pulled her mouth off of his and ran her hand along his cheek.

"I want you," she breathed sensually up at her lover.

"I want you too," Sam said soft enough so that only she and God could hear him.

Ainsley smiled seductively and ran her fingers through his hair as she planted her lips softly on his, no tongue this time. She wanted this to be love, not mindless sex. Sam repositioned himself so he lay on his side facing her. Ainsley wrapped her arms around his body and matched the position of her core with where his desire lay waiting. She was already so extremely wet just from knowing what was about to happen. From the suspense of every moment that led up to this point.

Ainsley caught Sam's gaze and nodded. Slowly and passionately, Sam pushed into her sensitive folds with his erect sex and she silently gasped in pleasure as her inner walls contracted around his length. She had always known she was tight, but feeling him drive his love into her gave her a new meaning of the word.

Sam whimpered as he drew her closer to him, tearing into her back with his fingers, trying to find enough skin to hold onto. Ainsley had by now gained some control over her body and had taken his face in her hands again. She wanted to see him, truly see him as he made love to her. Upon his first withdrawal and reentry, Ainsley's jaw dropped to the floor, every inch of him pulsing inside of her.

"God…Ainsley," Sam groaned as he continued to thrust his desire into her core.

"Perfect…," Ainsley breathed, "perfect… Sam…,"

He found confidence in her moans of ecstasy and moved his entire body into hers in a wavelike motion. Ainsley responded in kind by gyrating her hips against his gradually, not feeling the need to rush their first time, though she knew she wouldn't last much longer. She felt her fluids begin to lubricate her folds, and she knew Sam felt it too.

He thrust once, twice, three times into her. She licked her lips in desperation and Sam groaned at the sight of this. He moved his hands from her lower back to her breasts and began to cup them, one at a time, letting his fingertips swipe across her hard nipples. Shockwaves of pleasure ran through Ainsley's body, she was feeling high on him, on his sex.

Wanting to show her affection and support for him, for the way he was making her feel, Ainsley clung herself to his body and began to whisper into his ear all the sexually-charged things her mind was telling her mouth to say.

"Sam….oh God…please…,"

Sam moaned his approval and Ainsley continued while he held her so tightly she thought he might break her in half, not that she could care right now. Right now all she wanted to do was please the man she loved.

"I'm so wet for you…do you like that? Do you…oh…do you want me?"

Sam croaked a simple 'yes' in between advances deeper into her center. With each slow and erotic push, Sam's desire only seemed to be pulsating even harder, making the lips of Ainsley's core burn at a thousand degrees hotter than the Sun and her brain drown in lust.

"I'm close, Sam, I'm so close...make me…," Ainsley didn't finish her request. Sam let out a sound that could only be described as the most pleasurable sound Ainsley had ever heard and he buried his desire so far inside of her she was certain they couldn't possibly get physically any closer to one another. The walls of her sex vibrated intensely around his pleasure and Ainsley came onto his length with the force of a tsunami. Her legs shook uncontrollably as he wrapped his own around hers to keep her from fidgeting. Sam kissed her lips so deeply that she lost all sense of where she was for a couple of pleasure-induced seconds. When his lips left hers, Ainsley exhaled into him, letting her chest completely empty itself of all feeling except for him. He was the only thing in the entire world that mattered in this moment.

Ainsley held their foreheads together in completion as she found the words she had been looking for since she had first developed her crush on Sam Seaborn.

"I'm yours," she whispered, closing her eyes and thrusting her hips into his, moving her lower body in ways that she had only seen before in romance movies. His desire was still hard and buried deep inside of her and as she moved her hips in conjunction with his, she listened to the sounds of her lover's moans.

Sam swallowed hard as she made love to him. "I'm there…," he warned as Ainsley gripped the sides of his face in her hands and kept him staring back at her.

"I know," she whispered, feeling every spasm he was having as he remained inside of her. "Stay…," she moaned. "Stay with me…,"

Sam whimpered one last time, stared back into her eyes with passion and let his head collapse on her shoulder as his desire flexed and finally shot his love into her center. He trembled as his sex continued to twitch inside of her, slowly trying to come back down from their intense climaxes.

Ainsley held the back of his head in her palm and cupped one of his quivering hands in her free hand as they lay together on her bed as one. She felt him withdraw from her core a few seconds later with extreme hesitation, as if he might climax again from moving to quickly. He didn't and Ainsley began breathing deeply, still trying to recover from her own orgasm. She continued holding his hand, but let his head fall onto the pillow next to hers. Sam kissed her once on the cheek a moment later and she looked over at him lovingly.

"Was that-,"

"Yes," Sam answered before she could get through her question. He knew what she was going to ask. The answer was yes, always yes.

Ainsley smiled back at him. "It was for me too."

Sam smirked. "I think I worked up that appetite."

"Great," Ainsley whispered, then planting one kiss on his lips and lingering there for two seconds that seemed to last a lifetime. "I'll need your help in the kitchen...after I shower."

Sam tried his best to remain calm, but his mind was already looking forward to round two.

"We going to share this time?" he asked rhetorically.

Ainsley was already up out of bed and at the door to the bathroom, the early-morning light illuminating her figure even more beautifully than it had when he woke up this morning.

"Only if you promise not to ditch me afterwards," Ainsley joked.

Sam got up from her bed and walked over to the bathroom doorway, pushing Ainsley inside and closing the door behind them. It was Sunday. They had nowhere to be but with each other.

 **End**


End file.
